The Sleeping Circumstance
by Daydreaming-with-ink
Summary: An account of the many times Penny and Sheldon have slept together, in all sorts of lovely ways...
1. Chapter 1

_The first time they sleep together is unintentional._

_He is delirious and she, exhausted. _

"Leonard?" he calls. His voice is hoarse. There is no reply from his friend. He calls another few times, before hazarding a hopeful: "Penny?"

Nobody is home. He could place bets on the probability of their being busy when he's ill and win, but the room seems to be spinning and he doesn't think placing money on theoretical outcomes will help to resolve that. Instead, he gropes for his mobile.

Leonard's phone goes to straight to voicemail.

Penny's doesn't ring at all.

Without contemplating why he skips calling Howard and Raj, he tries the number for the Cheesecake Factory and is connected on the first ring.

"I'm dying a slow, mucus-filled death," he explains to the man on the phone. "I need to talk to Penny."

There is a pause, then: "Sheldon?"

He coughs. "How did you know it was me?"

There's a picture of him just under the register with the word 'warning' scribbled across it. _They __**know**__you here_,she thinks. "Just a hunch."

"Do you know the statistical likelihood of a person's so-called 'hunch' being correct? If you take into account –"

"I'm not being paid to listen to you, Sheldon. What's the matter?"

"My chest needs rubbing."

This is not an auspicious start to the evening.

Once again, she's been lumped with the duty of looking after a sick Sheldon.

She doesn't know where the guys have hidden this time, but she's going to kill them when they decide to turn up. Of all the dirty rotten tricks to pull twice, this has earned them a serious butt-kicking. For now though, she can't bring herself to abandon Sheldon. Even if he does make a horrible retching noise every two seconds and point out the bowl she's eating chips from is usually the used tissue bowl.

"Why don't you just use the trash can?"

"For two reasons: firstly, the bowl is portable and the garbage can is not. Secondly, the bowl is exactly 2.34 metres closer to the couch than said waste disposal unit, which means that I don't have to get up and I don't need to call on your services. You should be grateful; you don't have to handle my used tissues."

_I should be grateful? For any of __**this**__?_ She swallows her last mouthful of chips, probably for a long time. "Why couldn't you just move the bin closer to the couch?"

"And disrupt the convenient proximity of food scraps to disposal unit in the kitchen? Come on Penny. I don't ask this very often, but _think_."

If looks could kill…"Boy, you're a real charmer, Sheldon."

He balks and answers uncertainly, "Thankyou?"

She sighs, figures what the hell, and starts eating again.

"Must you make that incessant crunching sound, flaunting your ability to take in sustenance easily while I lie here weakened and starved?"

"Honestly sweetie, it's the only thing keeping me from murdering you."

"Well in case it wasn't obvious, I'm hungry," he announces. She silently offers him the bowl.

He gives her a withering look. "With the fragile state my body is in, the levels of fat and sodium chloride that those pieces of reconstituted potato flakes are flash-fried in would do nothing to aid a speedy recovery," he says, as if this were completely obvious. "If anything it would hinder it."

"Let me guess. You want soup then?"

"Split pea, if you would be so kind."

That's her problem. She will be.

***

"Once more, _please,_ Penny."

"Aren't you asleep yet?" she groans, her throat dry and her head pounding with the need to sleep. She's just sung Soft Kitty for the fifth time. The words are starting to lose all meaning. "You know for some big genius scientist, you seem to need simple little me a lot."

This catches him off guard because she's right: the moment Leonard is not a feasible option Sheldon knocks on Penny's door. She then, however reluctantly, proceeds to provide him with transport; advice on social situations; mind-blowing hamburgers (however biologically impossibly the adjective may be) and a smile that is not always forced. What stuns him is that he's found the word for such a relationship: he _relies_ on her. Lying here flushed with fever, listening to her sing his childhood lullaby while she rubs his chest with ointment…Sheldon Cooper has come to _rely_ on Penny.

"Yes, well, you're rather useful at times," he says feebly. It's hardly the strongest retort. He concedes that delirium is probably setting in, and so starts to recite the elements of the periodic table to keep his mind focused.

Penny opens her mouth wide to yawn, her muscles crying out in protest as she stretches. He's started to ramble and though she's used to that, she's not used to the hazy sheen in his usually sharp blue eyes. He looks like he's somewhere far away, and she is struck simultaneously by three thoughts:

_I'm not leaving him alone while he's this sick._

_He doesn't need me for anything; he just __**trusts **__me. _

He trusts her to get his dinner order right, to deliver him safe into the solace of the comic book store, to explain to him the mechanics of a woman's mind. Here he is, lying bare-chested and vulnerable, and he's stopped talking and left her to take care of his body.

Her last thought is that the sudden silence means he's fallen asleep, and that sounds like a damn good idea to her.

And before she realises it, Penny is sliding from her chair to drape herself across Sheldon's blanketed feet, sinking into the warmth of his bed.

In the morning she awakes to find him glaring at her and going on about the reasons why people _can not sleep_ in his room, but she's not listening. She's just woken from the most wonderful slumber – spent, oddly enough, at Sheldon Cooper's feet.


	2. Chapter 2

_The second time, they have no choice. _

Penny has to admit, she's been _dreading_ the long trip home.

Having spent the weekend at a physics conference in San Bernardino, she wants nothing more than to get home and scrub the scent of nerd from her skin with a long shower. She had only agreed to go along on the trip in the hopes of spending the weekend tanning herself on a gorgeous beach, despite the various lectures on Melanoma that Leonard had given her. However when she then found herself cooped up inside the hotel due to a freak summer storm, there was nothing to do but attend the conference or watch reruns of _Doctor Who _on the only station available, BBC America. With all five friends attending and the luggage that entails, Penny has drawn the short straw. While Leonard is cruising along with Howard and Raj, she gets to spend two hours alone with Sheldon and the bags. Sheldon, who on the way over braced his hands on the dashboard at every stop light; Sheldon, so against eating at a roadside diner that he packed his own lunch, exactly how he would buy it at The Cheesecake Factory. Sheldon, who called out every time she drove two miles over the speed limit.

Yes, she had been dreading this trip home when in reality, it has been rather mellow. Sheldon is tired from the long weekend and too drowsy to make a fuss about her driving. He relaxes into the passenger seat and patiently answers her questions about the shows she's watched.

"So, do the Doctor and Rose ever hook up?"

"The Doctor is the last Time Lord, Penny. As such he has a moral obligation to protect the citizens of the universe from any extra terrestrial, genetically engineered or simple homo sapien threat. More often than not these villains are attempting to dominate the world in such a fashion that will alter the course of history to a devastating effect. Not only does he have this responsibility but he must continue to bear the pain of knowing he was the one who decimated his own planet, causing infinite psychological torment and scars that will never heal. Therefore, any attempts at romance with a nineteen year old female not of his own species would be a gratuitous drain on his time."

She would be staring blankly at him, if she doesn't already know he'll yell at her to watch the road, tired or not.

Sheldon takes a breath for the first time in forty-one seconds, and comes to the conclusion he must once again 'dumb it down' for her. "There's no time for sex when you're a Time Lord." He thinks about the Doctor/Rose saga for a moment. "Also, she ends up trapped in another dimension by the end of season two."

"Huh," Penny says, with a thoughtful nod. "Shame."

Their conversation continues along the same lines: she asks simple questions, he gives answers that need translation. She finds she doesn't mind so much, when it's about TV instead of science. She's a little impressed by the fact he knows everything about a show that has been playing since before he was born. It seems to make him a little less anxious too, talking about characters and plots from his childhood. It's like a balm, the words rolling from his mouth loved and memorised. She's got to admit, he never sounds as passionate as he does when talking sci-fi. She smiles because she's finally gotten the hang of talking to him. He starts to rummage through his shoulder bag for a bottle of water.

"Penny," he says suddenly.

"Yeah sweetie?" she replies absently.

"I can't find my epinephrine."

"What?"

"My _epinephrine_," he repeats, desperately searching the depths of his bag, his pockets; the back seat. "It's not here. I must have left it at the hotel."

"Well that's okay, you must have more at home and we're halfway there. You don't need it right now, do you?"

He's amazed that she can be so nonchalant about a situation like this. "Don't nee - are you insane? Penny, need I remind you that I am _severely_ allergic to beestings. We are clearly still an hour away from Pasadena, we're in the middle of bee season and –" he jolts violently toward the middle console of the car, causing her to swerve in surprise, "And we're driving with the _windows down_! I may as well stick my head into a bee hive and cry 'hello boys! Come get me! I'm ready to suffer a severe anaphylactic reaction!'"

Penny gets the car back under control, her heart hammering. _For someone so afraid of dying he doesn't seem too aware he nearly killed us both._ "Ana-what?" she can't help asking, because she likes to stir him up.

"Penny, we need to turn around. Now."

"But Sheldon, we're halfway home!" she complains, "You're not going to die within the next hour." _Unless I kill you myself. _"Look, I'll wind the windows up – see? You're totally safe from the outside world."

Sheldon doesn't look convinced. He looks absolutely terrified, she concedes. His face is paler, if possible, and his eyes dart nervously around while he wrings his hands against the seat belt.

"Please, Penny."

When he settles his blue eyes on her, she cringes at the feeling of her resolve crumbling. It's like an avalanche has broken free inside her, a tumult of emotion stemming from one little loosened rock. It's a sensation almost reminiscent of falling in love.

"Fine," she grumbles, and turns the car around. Mostly because she can't bear for him to look at her like that again.

On the drive back to the hotel Sheldon sits poised for action, one hand tensed on his knee the other wrapped firm around the handle above the window. It's making his forearm bulge in a way Penny has never noticed, not until tonight as he grips the handle tighter and the moonlight maps the contour of his veins in blue. It's eerily beautiful, like a wolf howling in the woods.

She is still staring when he suddenly turns his head to catch her eye.

And still thinking about it when the fuel light blinks bright red.

***

"Penny," he says slowly, revealing the real reason for meeting her gaze. "The fuel light is on. And the car is slowing down."

"What?" she blinks herself into awareness and glares at the light as if it's doing this just to spite her. "No, come on! Give me a break!" she groans, pulling onto the side of the road.

"It would seem we're out of gas," Sheldon remarks blankly, as if this were no more than a curious observation.

As the car dies, she smacks her head and hands into the steering wheel. "Gee, do you think?"

"Of course I –" his mouth upturns long enough to show realisation. "Sarcasm again. I'm getting better at this."

"I'm so freaking happy for you."

"And again!"

"Sheldon, I swear to god –"

"Well what are we going to do now? We're miles away from any gas station." And then he finally falls onto the same page as Penny.

"We're miles away from _anywhere_," he restates wildly. "What about my epinephrine?"

Penny grumbles something into the steering wheel.

"I didn't quite catch that."

She lifts her head to meet his panicky eyes with an irritated expression. "I said you're paranoia is the least of our problems, Sheldon. Actually, I think it's the cause."

She unbuckles her seat belt and wrenches the door open, stepping out into the warm summer night. Sheldon hesitates for a moment before joining her. He can see the tension forming in the straight edge of her shoulders, in the stiffness of her knees, and marvels at how fast the woman can derail.

He can also see that they're on the side of a winding, vacant road, and he feels the urge to hide in the back of the car.

"Penny," he calls nervously, "What do you propose we do to rectify this situation?"

She's stabbing violently at the buttons of her phone, not looking at him. "I _propose_ to send you off down the road to find the gas station," she replies, "Because my phone is dead."

"Me?" he repeats incredibly, "Why me?"

"Because if you hadn't made me turn around we'd be home by now!" she hisses. The sound reminds him of a bee's buzz, and he anxiously flicks his gaze around the area.

"First of all, that argument is hardly plausible. I merely asked you to turn back; I did not physically force your hands to spin the wheel and make the vehicle change direction. Secondly, though your phone battery is drained, mine is not. I suggest I use it to call a tow truck to come and pick us up."

As he takes his phone from his pocket, Penny tries to calm herself down. No matter what happens they have a long night ahead and it'll only be worse if she continues to treat Sheldon like dirt.

"What's the number for the company?" he asks.

She holds her hand out for the phone. He clutches it protectively. "Frankly I don't feel comfortable letting you handle my mobile while you're in this mood, Penny."

One glare from her, and he hands it over.

"Don't get fingerprints on the screen –" there's that glare again. He twitches at the grime on her hands, but says nothing more.

"I'll make the call," she says, "I've done this before."

Six minutes into the conversation, she's fuming again.

"They won't be able to get us until six tomorrow morning," she announces after hanging up. She hands him the phone because she's in danger of throwing it. "All their guys have other people to collect, and because we're on such a backwater-road it's going to take them hours to get to us." She slumps against the car hood, raking her hand through her hair. "We're stuck here until morning."

Sheldon gives one of his rare breathy laughs.

"We can't sleep _here_," he says. "So I assume that was one of your jokes that I have yet to grasp the point of."

She gives him a look that says she's most definitely _not_.

"Penny, what if someone stops by to help? Do you _know_ what the odds are of being killed while hitchhiking in the US? You think they're stopping to offer assistance to an unfortunate soul and then suddenly you're staring at your best friend's innards splattered all over your shirt."

"I see. And the odds of that happening in California are…?"

"Four point three-four-eight percent."

"Uh-huh. And Pasadena?"

He's quiet. "Zero point five percent."

"Exactly. What are the odds that we get the only zero point five percent of a roadside murderer in Pasadena?"

"I just _told_ you –"

"– It was rhetorical."

"No it wasn't. You didn't fulfil the requirements for a rhetorical statement at all."

God, he makes it hard sometimes. There are days when she could just rip out his throat. But there are also days where she could just…what? She wonders where that trail of thought was going to end.

"Sheldon…" she sighs, shakes her head, and starts to walk.

"Where are you going?"

"Well I take it _you're _not going to be making the journey to the gas station, are you?"

"Of course not. And neither should you. You continue to say _the_ station as if you know the location of one. Yet you could be walking for miles before you actually find one, in which time morning will have broken and the tow truck will be here to take us home, rendering your journey pointless."

"If I don't do something, I'm going to lose my mind."

"_That's_ your argument? Penny, you need to take into account –"

"Bye, Sheldon. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Before he can say another word she stalks off down the road, her eyes gleaming against the moonlight. After a while she starts to focus on nothing but the sound of her footsteps, the way they crunch in the dirt. She eyes the parkland that runs parallel to the road, and can't help thinking about what Sheldon has said. If there are murderers travelling by car this way, imagine how many crazy homeless people might be living _here_, in the parks. Her frustration starts to dissipate, until nothing but fear is left. She hugs her arms around herself, hears the wind rustling through the trees, and thinks that maybe this isn't such a great idea after all.

***

Sheldon watches her back disappear into the night.

Of course they're on flat ground, so she doesn't really disappear, just appears further and further away. No matter how far away she gets, he'll still be able to find her. Reassured by the thought, he climbs back into the car, locks the doors, and lies sideways in the passenger seat. It's impossible to sleep in this position. There is no proper lumbar support, no correct angle of elevation to ensure he doesn't get a crick in his neck. He resigns himself to a sleepless night, and stares out the driver's seat window.

He very nearly dies of fright when a face appears on the other side of the glass.

The face is pleasant to behold, with a soft mouth and blonde hair that falls across the eyes. Penny raps her knuckles on the window, her expression contrite.

"Okay, you win," she announces. "It's too creepy. Let me in?"

Sheldon's heart is undergoing erratic palpitations; his blood circulation feels severely constricted. Yet the shock of her sudden appearance should have worn off by now. So when he reaches across to unlock the door, he wonders if perhaps he's still reacting this way because he's so relieved to see her. He also wonders _why_. She climbs into the car, aware of the way he's laying perfectly still, his pupils blown wide and his lips slightly parted.

"Did I scare you, hunny?" she asks, with the hint of a smile.

"More than you think," he replies somewhat huskily, and closes his eyes.

Penny frowns. That's it? No making her feel stupid for walking away? No complaints about sleeping arrangements and the ever present danger of a bee sting? She reaches into the back of the car for the pillow she'd brought, and hugs it to her side.

"Sorry I yelled at you," she ventures quietly. "Even though it _is_ your fault. I've just been working so hard lately to come up with money for bills…I really needed this weekend. And so far it's been total crap."

Sheldon's eyes are on her again, reaching across the divide of the console to paint a blush on her cheeks. He is normally so twitchy but his face seems carefully serene all of a sudden, and it makes her nervous.

"I accept your apology," he replies. "But you know I would gladly lend you money if you needed it, Penny."

"I know…I'm just tired of relying on people. My dad is always saying it was a stupid idea for me to move here, because he thinks I can't look after myself. So far I haven't done a very good job of proving him wrong."

"Well, we can't argue with the evidence." It comes from his mouth so fast it takes the breath out of her. She knows he's never thought her to be much of a success but hearing him agree with her father, of all people, cuts her to the core. "For instance you have your own apartment and keep it looking great by adhering to the organizational chart I drew up; within two days of moving into said apartment you found a steady form of employment; within a week you established yourself as an efficient and beneficial member of the friendship that has accumulated between myself, Leonard, Wolowitz and Koothrappali." He picks at his sleeve, avoiding her gaze. "Not to mention you ensnare everyone you meet with your benevolence, generosity and astonishing good looks – that's not my opinion, by the way, it's a biological fact."

Penny initially closes her ears to any further words from him, until she realises that they are a list of her positive attributes and not of her faults. She starts to wonder if maybe she's been seeing Sheldon in entirely the wrong light.

"Th-thankyou, Sheldon," she says, trying to discern the expression on his face. If he shows any indication of knowing that he's just made her feel like a success, or that he's actually used sarcasm, it's hidden in shadow. He stretches out on the reclined car seat and lies on his back, one hand resting on his chest and the other falling loosely to his side.

"You're very welcome, Penny. Have a pleasant REM cycle."

"Yeah…goodnight, sweetie."

Silence for three seconds. "Penny?"

"Mhmm?"

"Why do you have so many shoes under your driver's seat? Please don't tell me you change footwear whilst _driving._ I don't need to tell you how dangerous that is, do I?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters; if you were to start changing shoes while merging onto a highway, for example, and –"

"Sheldon, if you don't make your point soon –"

"Well it's just that…it was in your shoe pile. It must have slipped out of my pocket..."

"_What's_ in my shoe pile, Sheldon?"

He turns his gaze to find hers, a sheepish Sheldon smile on his lips and answers:

"My epinephrine."


	3. Chapter 3

_The third time is science. _

Penny is dipping her first dish in the sink when she hears the knocking.

One. Two. Three.

"Penny."

One. Two. Three.

"Penny."

One. Two. _Three._ If a single knock could sound impatient and anxious, this one does.

"Penny!"

"It's open, Sheldon!" Penny calls, wringing out the dish cloth and leaving it by the sink. Looking for any excuse to get out of cleaning, she leans against the counter and waits for him. Sheldon lets himself in, a question already taking shape on his mouth.

"Penny, you don't think –" he breaks off.

As always, the first thing his eyes seem to seek out is mess. Never mind that Penny is wearing short shorts and a flimsy singlet, he strides right past her to the sink cluttered with dishes.

"You are only one person, Penny," he says, "I wouldn't imagine it's difficult to simply clean your one dinner plate after you've eaten. Yet you continue to leave what I can only assume is the entire week's washing up until the whole sink is filled. Why is that?"

Penny just smiles and shrugs. "I hate cleaning. Thought it was pretty obvious."

She sidles over to him and wordlessly holds out her hands. Sheldon takes the rubber gloves from her, his fingers scraping firm against hers in an effort to remove the wet garments. "Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin your fun, seeing as you clearly _love _coming over to do my cleaning," she adds, watching him pull the gloves on like a surgeon about to save a life. He scrubs at the plate she's started but not finished, always picking up the remnants of her attempts at tidying her life. He hands the plate and a dish towel to her, and politely demands, "Dry."

She plucks them from him and wipes the plate dry, finishing what he's started. She's never known a man to willingly stand beside her and wash dishes. She kind of likes it. They work along what he'd call an efficient routine, in what she'd call companionable silence. Though Penny feels relaxed, she notices the strain in his shoulders, the tightness of his jaw. He seems to be getting tenser with each finished dish.

"What were you going to ask me before, sweetie?" she asks gently.

His eyes fly to meet hers, as if he's forgotten where he is. "Before?"

"When you came in, you said 'Penny, do you think'. Then you went all _Grey's Anatomy _on my dishes."

Without missing a beat, he replies: "Oh yes, that. Penny, you don't think I'm an incompetent lover of the homosexual persuasion, do you?"

She stifles a laugh, because she doesn't want to hurt his feelings. He's standing there in rubber gloves commandeering her washing up. _Sheldon,_ she thinks, _I'm not sure __**what**__ you are._

"Of course not," she replies carefully, "But uh…wh-what makes you think you are?"

He hands her the last item and pulls the plug, watching the remains of their labour disappear drown the drain.

"Oh, _I_ don't believe I am," he answers, setting the gloves next to the empty sink. His hands are glistening from condensation, the heat of the water reaching his skin through the gloves. She forces herself not to stare at them. "However, earlier today I was watching a man on the bus engage in conversation with an attractive woman in an attempt to initiate a date, and the chance for sexual congress. When she then proceeded to tell him to 'get bent', he saw me looking and implied that I could not do any better."

Penny listens sympathetically. She knows that men can be such jerks when the sting of rejection is fresh. Sheldon folds his arms and stands awkwardly in the kitchen, looking vulnerable now that he has nothing to do but talk. "I then insisted that not only do I find sexual relationships repulsive but that I believe them to be an unnecessary distraction from one's work. He replied that he was not surprised, then proceeded to tell me I was most likely gay, and couldn't find a woman's erogenous zone if she clenched it around my –"

"Okay! Okay! What's the point of this?" She tries to get that mental image out of her head.

"My point is I have never failed at science."

She blinks. "Right…"

"Sex," he continues, "Can be acted upon scientifically. It requires a series of actions and chemical components to interact at a productive level." She's suddenly very aware of the little space there is between them.

"I still don't see –"

"Penny, I'd like to propose an experiment."

She swallows hard. _Oh, crap. _"What kind of experiment, Sheldon?"

"I propose that I perform sexual activities on you, using logical movements to produce the desired effect, therefore proving that a) I am not sexually incompetent and b) sex does not have to be associated with any form of emotion, rather a scientifically logical sequence."

She drops her dish towel to the floor.

"You're freaking kidding me, aren't you?"

He looks at her blankly. "Penny, I do not 'kid' when it comes to science. So what do you think?"

"I think…no!" she replies, feeling the heat creep up her neck to colour her cheeks. She bolts from the kitchen to sit on the edge of her coffee table, pretending to tidy magazines. "Obviously not, Sheldon."

"Why not?"

"Because it's weird! You're…_you_! And it would be you and me…"

He now looks at her as if she's stupid. "Penny, I have already outlined the parameters. It is not an emotional proposition. It is purely in the interest of science."

There are no words to describe the unease she is feeling.

Sheldon is…_Sheldon. _She admits that sometimes she catches herself…looking…at him, but that doesn't mean she wants to sleep with guy. He's sweet and helpful in his own way, but he's also stubborn and impossible a lot of the time. She can argue until she's blue in the face and still not get her point across sometimes. Yet she finds herself wondering…

What would it be like?

"Well…pleasant, I should imagine. At least that's the outcome I'm hoping to ascertain."

"Huh?"

She's spoken aloud and not realised it. "Oh, I wasn't talking to you…"

Sheldon makes a point of surveying the otherwise empty apartment.

"I wasn't…I mean - sweetie, I can't."

His arms are clasped behind his back. He is staring at her in such a way that it makes Penny think he's not going to back down on this.

"Penny, let me ask you something: how often do you partake in sexual congress with men from bars, the names of whom you cannot remember the next day?"

She stares at her fingernails. They need a fresh coat of paint. "One night stands? No more than any other single girl," she replies defensively.

"And what do you say is generally the outcome of these endeavours? Do you wake up the next day feeling satisfied? Or would you agree that - as alcohol is a depressant rendering males unable to sustain any form of arousal - you wake up with remnants of your sexual appetite and an incredibly dismal hangover?"

"Sheldon, get to the point. Saying no to you is just wasting my time." But she hasn't got anything else to do. She's just had dinner; the apartment is tidy; she has no auditions to prepare for tomorrow. And all this talk of one night stands is just reminding her of how long it's been since she's had good sex. She presses her face into her hands and tries _not_ to think of sleeping with Sheldon. But now that this idea has been planted, it's taking root. She thinks back to the night they'd slept in her car.

"_Not to mention you ensnare everyone you meet with your benevolence, generosity and astonishing good looks – that's not my opinion, by the way, it's a biological fact."_

"My point is this could simulate a one night stand, with the exception of alcohol and dissatisfaction."

There is a small part of her that wants to experiment, too.

She's been wondering what this man's problem is. He has, in the time she's known him, never once been with a woman. He's often mentioned how inferior and pointless he finds any form of human contact, and she wonders, though is pretty sure, it's because he's never experienced it. You can't miss what you've never had. This thing between them can go one of two ways: it can be a total disaster, resulting in extremely awkward hallway confrontations and embarrassing secrets kept from Leonard and _especially _Howard…or they might stumble upon something they'd never thought possible. Penny finds herself striding purposefully toward Sheldon. She stabs a finger into his chest.

"Just tell me this: are you _sure_ you could do this without being affected? Because I don't want to ruin the friendship we have, however weird it may be."

"I'm a scientist, Penny." He's buzzing with anticipation, certain she's about to say yes. And because he's never realised just how often he uses her name when speaking to her. Saying her name is almost like the comfort he feels when talking about his favourite TV shows. He puts this down to the emotions associated with friendship, and waits for her reply.

It comes with a sigh and a strange expression on her face. "Fine, Sheldon. I'll do it."

He nearly bounces with excitement. "Terrific. I'll just get my notebook and be right back."

"Yeah," Penny mumbles nervously as he disappears into the hall. "Terrific."

***

Penny sits tensely on her bed, legs crossed and arms thrown behind her for support, waiting for him to make a move.

For the first few moments Sheldon has simply sat in front of her, making notes in his journal. His mouth occasionally forms the words he is writing so carefully into the book, his brow furrowed with concentration. He is aware of her anxious staring, the way she worries her bottom lip with her teeth. It's unnerving him. If he fails at this…no. Sheldon Cooper does not _do _failing. The closest he's ever come is a setback, which has only ever encouraged him to devise a new strategy or theorem and attack again with more vigour than before. After all, this is science to him. And if she's ever trusted him with anything, it's to know the answers to that.

She's in very capable hands.

Bearing this in mind, he sets the journal aside and at last advances towards her.

Immediately he feels her bracing, shutting her eyes tight.

Does she not think this is a good idea after all? Sheldon leans forward with his hands splayed either side of her lap, dipping his forehead to hers. Penny's eyes burst open at the curious sensation of his lips whispering over her cheek, her jaw, across to her ear. It's tantalisingly soft, enough to coax colour to her heated skin, enough to stoke the flame in her blood. His mouth is at her ear; she feels the breath of his command, "Relax, Penny."

It's as easy as that.

There has been a tension spooled inside her, something so constricting she can hardly breathe. However his hands are slowly making their way along her thighs, hovering millimetres over her skin, and she feels herself begin to melt into the carefully placed palms of Sheldon's hands. Seems like he's _finally_ noticed her short shorts, and is grateful for her wearing them. It leaves a lot of skin free.

This visual indication of her acquiescence is what he gages his next movements on. Sheldon peppers her face with kisses, not once brushing over her mouth. It's too much of a romantically associated place. With firm pressure on her hips, he urges Penny to lie back and leans over her body. She falls to the pillows with her eyes closed again and her mouth open in stark wonder. She is utterly surprised that he who bluntly employs physics into everything can map the terrain of her body with such subtle finesse. He feels the temperature of her skin climb beneath his fingers, and strokes them along her thighs as he crawls down her body. Sheldon reaches up to lift the fabric of her shirt and dips his tongue into her navel. He smiles proudly at the reaction he elicits: one of Penny's hands tangles into the back of his head, the other firmly grips his shoulder. He hears her low keen and moves his mouth along her stomach, tracing the alphabet of the bedroom into her skin.

"Shel –" Penny breaks off, unable to breathe. Maybe it's been longer than she'd thought. Maybe he actually _does _know what he's doing. She's on fire, she's spiralling toward the western arm of a galaxy far away and he has yet to touch her where it counts. She can't speak because he's now toying with the zip of her shorts, pulling it lazily halfway down and plucking half heartedly at the button. It's making her adopt the Sheldon twitch. Maybe they're more alike than she thought. They've just needed a neutral situation, in which all they have is the moment and no prior preparation, to bring out what they've never expressed. She feels her shorts loosen; he's stopped toying. While lifting her hips with one hand and tugging the shorts down with another, he tentatively licks around her heated stomach. By the sudden stillness of her limbs he gages he's made an error in technique, and rapidly changes tact. He discards her pants and settles between her thighs. Penny's stomach knots at the sight of his searing gaze finding hers across the distance that is her body.

They're still eye to eye when he starts to brush a finger over her underwear.

After that, she throws her head back and doesn't care if he's looking or not – she just doesn't want him to stop. It's the lightest stroking she can imagine, in fact that's what she thinks – she's imagining it. But how can she be, when the muscles in her thighs are trembling, when she has to fight to keep her own fingers from grabbing at him and shaking until he gives her more?

"Please…" she finds herself murmuring. She is not ashamed. She is astounded that he can draw this reaction from her so early on.

"I take it pleading is a positive response to this stimulation?" he asks quietly, his breath hot on the fabric of her underwear. "It means that you would benefit from the continuation of this action?"

Oh, she'd sure as hell _benefit._

"Just…" she flexes her hands in his hair, takes a breath, "More," she finishes.

And he concedes.

Sheldon tugs ever so slowly at the waistband of her underwear, pulling the fabric down inch by inch. She rushes to lift her hips for him, wasting no time in removing any barrier between her and his glorious fingers. Penny does not moan next because of sensation, rather a lack of it: he does not make any further move to touch her. He counts the seconds until twenty three have passed, watching the way her eyes squeeze tighter and her legs unconsciously spread wider. Her hand clenches into his hair and he smiles, just for a second, until he remembers that this is an experiment and does not warrant an emotional response on his part. All he requires is her hormonal response. And boy, has he gotten it.

"Sheldon!" she growls, after another seven seconds has passed by with no touch.

Enough is enough. He brushes a solitary finger over her, into her, in a circling motion that sets her nerve endings on fire. Penny nearly cries. In fact he hears her whimper. If he'd not spent ample time researching techniques he'd have stopped to wonder if this whimpering meant she was in distress. He needs only to take one second to watch her face and is reassured that she most definitely is not.

A second finger joins the first, smooth and nimble and so very skilled that Penny's moaning becomes constant, a note that becomes part of the room's ambience. He feels her hand tug with more emphasis on his hair, almost sharp enough to sting. He gasps into the heat of her, finds that she nearly bucks in reaction to his warm breath, and is delighted to have discovered another productive motion. He sighs, long and hard, and she shudders.

"Sheldon," she whispers, which trails into _oh my god_ as he lowers his mouth onto her.

Immediately he lifts his face to peer at her, his eyes coloured with a disgruntled tint and something else. Judging by the pout on his pink lips, the something else is arousal that he hasn't noticed, or does not know how to register.

"Need I point out that this 'God' you're pleading to is not the one causing you such sensations, and if he were actually real he would be completely averse to this entire situation, rendering your plea pointless?"

She can't even _begin _to reply to this. She simply digs her nails into his shoulder and simultaneously throws her head back, a velvet kind of bliss boiling inside.

Sheldon feels her muscles tensing, hears her breath catching and knows she's almost there. He lowers his mouth again, twists his fingers just _so_, and suddenly knows what it's like to make a woman come. Penny's mouth forms an o shape, completely soundless until the groan that has been building rips free, low and drawn out. He feels tears spring to his eyes with the force of her grip on his hair, tight and sharp and relentless. It all lasts no more than twelve seconds; he counts. He counts, and does not understand. He's just done it, yet cannot comprehend why humans suffer through the motions of pick up lines and dates, foreplay and long minutes of sexual intercourse, just for these twelve seconds of ecstasy. When her fingers loosen and her limbs fall limp onto the blanket he pulls away, both satisfied and a little nonplussed.

Penny's just entirely satisfied.

She curls onto her side and pulls the blankets over her, waiting for her heart to stop racing, unsure of what to say or do. Not that social niceties really seem important at a time like this.

"Well," she pants, "Uh…if you ever need someone for more exploration…." She meets his gaze, his face flushed down to his collar. "Give me a call."

Sheldon nods, not entirely sure if she is just trying to make light of the situation. Not that their current situation _needs_ to be made light of. It has been purely scientific; he does not feel like he's burning up; he cannot still hear the echoes of her moans reverberating in his head. Sheldon shakes himself back to reality and considers his next move. There is research to document. Yes. That's what needs to be done. He reaches over to her nightstand and collects his journal, then bids her a good night and heads for the door.

"Way to score and run out on a girl," he hears her calling while his back is turned.

He immediately turns back to her, his face once again expressionless. "My sexual organs were not involved in this endeavour therefore I did not draw any pleasure from it, so technically you can't say that I 'scored'."

"Well I'd give you a ten out of ten," she replies, patting the bed. She mentally kicks herself and hopes to god he doesn't pick up on the corny line she's just used. "Why do you have to run off straight away?"

"I have an analysis to write about the results of this evening's trial."

"Well can't you do it here? It's pretty late. What will Leonard think if he sees you just getting home now?"

"What will he think if he finds me just coming home tomorrow morning?"

Penny rolls her eyes and pats the bed again. "Sheldon, just sit down."

He reluctantly kicks off his shoes, bemoaning his lack of pyjamas, and lies down beside her. The back of his head rests against the headboard; he cradles the journal in his lap and starts to make notes.

"It's a little weird with you writing about what you just did, you know, sitting right next to me."

He gives her an exasperated look. "Well you told me to do this here, Penny."

She sighs, rolling onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "I know…just do whatever. I'm exhausted."

"May I document that reaction?" he asks innocently. She squirms a little, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Fine. Go nuts. Just wake me up in the morning, okay?"

"Wait, you want me to lie here while you sleep?" he seems to panic, his hand falling still over the etchings in his notebook.

Penny can't help herself; she laughs.

It's a short lived moment of post coital delirium, he tells himself. That's why she's giggling in a ridiculously endearing way, and why she slaps his arm with no real intent to damage.

"Did you expect me to sleep on the couch? Or just run along into the kitchen and make tea?"

He can taste tea, now that she's mentioned it. There's something else too, something that must be the residue of…Penny. He licks his lips and starts to flick through the pages of his book, no longer content to write about Penny's sexual preferences while she's lying next to him, half naked and wriggling closer to him. He's thankful that she's under the covers and he's not; grateful for the little amount of privacy left between them.

"What's this about?" Penny asks, tentatively resting her cheek on his shoulder, pointing at a drawing in the journal. She's started to feel sorry for him, being the inexperienced one for once. She points to the labelled diagram of the Earth with many red and blue lines over certain countries. She's aiming to bring him back to a subject of normalcy. He takes the cue like a man dying of thirst, and starts to explain to her his theories on gravitational waves detectors. She doesn't understand most of what he's saying, but she's trying. She just likes listening to the passion and excitement that flares like a physical presence whenever he talks about science. It's the TV show feeling all over again. She lets her eyes fall closed, but does not sleep. Surprisingly enough, he's the one who drifts off first. His mouth ceases to form words that she can't comprehend, his hands lose grip of the journal and his head lolls ever so slightly to the side.

Penny gently removes her head from his shoulder and eases the notebook off his lap and onto the nightstand, certain he would not want it to be crumpled in the night. She spends the next hour or so leaning over him, amazed at the turn of events. She observes the strange man before her, and admits, finally, that there is definitely more to Sheldon Cooper than she'd first thought.

It usually takes a man to show her a wonderful night of booze and sex to make a deep impression on her. Yet Sheldon has slipped, unbidden, under her skin without removing a single article of his own clothing, or pouring one solitary glass of vodka. She yawns and curls into her pillow, and sleeps with him for the third time, wondering just a little if there'll be a next.


	4. Chapter 4 was missing sorry!

_The fourth time, it's about healing. _

It happens on Hamburger Tuesday, when she isn't there to serve him his burger.

All four men sit at their usual table, heatedly discussing the benefits of cloning after watching Doctor Who's _The Poison Sky _the night before.

"....yes but with a clone of myself, I need never have to suffer through conversation with my parents again! They could force _him_ to marry a woman he has never met and I can run away to the Caribbean and have a beautiful native girl to feed me Grasshoppers every five minutes."

"Oh please, the Sontarans' method of cloning is _hardly_ the most practical, Raj," argues Sheldon. "Were you not paying attention at all? For your clone to be of any use, you would have to be strapped into a machine that extrapolates your memories and transfers them into its mind. What good is a sun-washed beach and alcohol when you're essentially in an induced coma the entire time?"

Raj ducks his face sheepishly into his menu.

"Forget strapping your_self_ in," Howard picks up the argument, "If I had a feisty red head and a hot military ex-companion at hand I know what I'd be cloning." He has a dreamy look on his face as he sets his menu down. "Imagine it: if I used enough cloning machines, I could have a room full of Howard-loving ladies."

"I think we all know the flaw in that plan," Leonard remarks.

"Just because you clone them it does not mean they'll find you appealing, Wolowitz," Sheldon says.

This time Leonard rolls his eyes. "I would have thought it was obvious enough, Sheldon, but thanks for pointing it out."

Raj smirks; Howard just stares wistfully at the table. Sheldon is about to retort when a waiter appears at their table, a dutiful smile on his face because he knows these nerds are nothing but a nuisance.

The confusion is evident on Sheldon's face. "You're not Penny," he announces.

"Well, the last time I checked I was a dude," the waiter replies. "What can I get for you?"

"I'll have –"

"Well first and foremost you can obtain Penny for us, as she is the only person in this hygiene-suspicious junk food joint that I trust to get my order right."

The waiter blinks. "Are you calling this place dirty?"

Leonard shakes his head at his friend. "She's probably busy with another table, Sheldon. Just give him your order."

"Penny's not here," the waiter reveals, "She left like an hour ago, said she was feeling sick."

"Penny is ill?"

Howard, Raj and Leonard mentally brace themselves for the oncoming germaphobe's rant. _She's sick? And she brought her germs to a place where people __**eat?**_

Oddly, it seems Sheldon has decided to focus on a different aspect of this revelation.

"But then…who will take my order correctly and make sure it comes placed atop a napkin acting as a bacterial safeguard against the re-used plate?"

Once again, their server for the evening just blinks. "What's wrong the plates?"

"No!" Howard shouts.

Raj hits himself in the forehead with a menu.

"Here we go," groans Leonard.

Sheldon's mouth falls open. "_What's wrong with the plates_? Well, for starters…"

***

By the time the two roommates arrive home, it's raining.

The lot where residents keep their cars is undercover, but the walk from there to the front doors of the apartment building is not.

"It's only a little rain, Sheldon," Leonard tries to coax his friend from the car. "Come on. We're going to miss the beginning of _Stargate Atlantis._"

"We have the DVDs."

"Okay let me put it this way: _you're_ going to miss the beginning because I'm going inside and starting without you." He tosses him the keys. "Lock the door when you've decided to brave nature."

"You may be waiting some time," Sheldon replies. Over the pitter-patter of rain on the garage roof, he hears Leonard's footsteps resounding on the concrete, and then relative silence.

The car is stuffy; he opens the passenger door and sits half leaning out, jingling the keys in his hand. "What's wrong with being aware of the causes of pneumonia?" he asks under his breath.

_Pneumonia. Sick. _

_Penny. _

Suddenly he realises the implications of Penny's absence at the Cheesecake Factory. She's going to be coughing and spluttering, spreading her germs all over the place. Instead of planning for the bacteria war that is to come, he finds himself wondering what kind of soup she's likely to find beneficial. On the heel of this thought is another: someone is crying. At first he thinks he's imagining it, but no. Over the sound of the rain, there is a definite sniffing, hiccupping sound coming from within the confines of the garage.

Cautiously, Sheldon extricates himself from the car and cranes his neck into the shadows. Immediately he berates himself: lifting his head an extra centimetre is not going to help him see in the dark.

"Hello?" he calls quietly. "Is there anyone there?"

More sniffing, and then a nervous: "Sheldon?"

The voice is a little higher than usual, altered by stress, but there's no mistaking who the person is. "Penny," Sheldon calls, "Where are you?"

"Over here."

He follows the echo of her voice to a corner of the car lot. "Penny," he breathes out again, as the object of his earlier ponderings suddenly materialises before him. She is huddled between her car and the far wall, her knees drawn up to her chest. She's shivering and pale, with tears streaked down her cheeks. He tries to think of something comforting to say.

"It's Hamburger Tuesday. You weren't there."

She chokes out a laugh. It's hollow and completely…_not_ Penny.

"I'm not really sick," she explains. He's towering over her in the corner and if it had been anyone else, she'd be feeling the urge to curl into a tight ball for safety. "I just wanted to leave early because this guy at the restaurant wouldn't stop staring at me. After I'd served him he just sat there watching me throughout my shift." She gulped and rubbed a cold hand over her face. "He was making me feel _so _uncomfortable."

"So you left work early because a man was _looking_ at you?"

"You weren't there," Penny snaps. "He had this creepy look on his face…it was like, like he knew something I didn't. And even after he finished his meal he just sat there, like he could wait all night."

He notices her shivering to the point of convulsion and decides that sitting beside her may have a comforting effect. She immediately presses closer to his side, like a plant growing toward the sunlight.

"I thought that if I left at a weird time, like a time he wouldn't expect a shift to end, he wouldn't look for me. But he saw me leaving, and followed me to my car."

Sheldon does not want to hear this.

A couple of sentences have never before moved him to the point of rage.

He finds his breathing is becoming rapidly constricted, his hands tightening into fists for the first time in his life. "Did he attempt to assault you?" he asks in a carefully even tone. A fresh flow of tears starts to fall as she nods, trailing a line of misery down her cheeks.

"I told him to go away, but he just kept telling me how beautiful he thought I was, how he – he wanted to…" she breaks off, crying too hard to explain. "Oh, Sheldon," she moans as he awkwardly attempts to put his arm around her. "Why can't men be like you? Why can't they just not _notice_ me? Sometimes I just want to put a bag over my head, or poke their eyes out!" She throws herself into his chest, into the clumsy embrace of his gangly arms. That's when he can smell it on her: violence. It's in the strands of her hair, stinking like perspiration and fuel. It's the fingernail prints on her arm, the discreet split in her lip.

He wants to tell her that it would be a travesty to hide her face; that he would gladly provide the equipment for her to remove the corneas of every man she met. Hell, he would do it himself. But he doesn't for the life of him understand why. He hesitates a moment before tightening his grip on her. "I notice you, Penny," he whispers. And then to cover the sudden vulnerability he's feeling, adds: "Have you never seen a stalker movie? You _never_ go out alone. You _tell_ somebody."

"I know," she cries into his shoulder. He may as well have gone out into the rain, he thinks. She's crying a river into his clothes anyway. "I'm such an idiot. I'm just this stupid blonde who only gets by on her looks –"

"Blossoms," Sheldon interrupts. It surprises both of them.

"W-what?" Penny inquires, sniffing.

"You constructed one thousand Penny Blossoms in a single night."

"Well, yeah…but you guys helped. What does that have to do with –?"

"– Upon collecting our take out, you ensure that Wolowitz' meal is devoid of peanut products before leaving the restaurant."

"Just because I had to punch him in the face once doesn't mean I want him to die of anaphylactic shock."

He refuses to be beaten. He's going to get through to her even if he has to miss an entire episode of _Stargate Atlantis._ She's lifted her face from his shoulder to stare at him, but he can't look her in the eye. He twitches a little, gazing resolutely forward, and continues his barrage of compliments.

"You're improving significantly in your ability to understand words from my own vocabulary. A year ago would you have been able to even pronounce 'anaphylactic?'"

She smiles just the slightest bit. "You're saying I was stupid last year."

This time he does look at her, a wistful colour in his eyes. "Let me win this, Penny."

"You win everything, Sheldon."

Another thought comes to mind. "Not Halo. You've blown me into a million pieces on numerous accounts during a game of Halo."

She lets her head fall into the crook of his shoulder again and closes her eyes as he rambles on in a low tone. At some point during this she's moved her legs across his lap, and her arms now rest around his neck. If he's noticed, he hasn't said anything. She can feel his hands dance lightly over her back, the physical manifestation of the words that fall into the night. She recalls with flushed cheek the last time those hands had touched her.

They sit and murmur for an inconceivable amount of time. All they know is that the rain has stopped by the time Penny grasps the point of what he's doing. She feels a warm glow of gratitude settle into the place that earlier had been filled with fear and anger. "You can stop now," she whispers. He falls silent, breathing a sigh of relief for his vocal chords. He's still Sheldon, after all. _He's Sheldon_, Penny thinks to herself, though this thought has occurred so often lately that it's lost all meaning. She no longer sees him in one light. She sees Sheldon, who stands above everyone else in more respects than one; who can be simultaneously irritating and sexy when raving about physics. Who can take her violated soul and spin it until it's brand new. As uncompromising, as vain and stubborn as he can be, she has to give him credit: he does often _attempt _to be human. He fumbles through chitchat; he withstands her constant insistence on physical contact and stands up for Leonard when the time is right. He is staring at her, and she's staring back. She leans in to kiss him…

…but he has already turned his mouth away.

"My deepest apologies, Penny," he says quickly, "Please don't misinterpret my reaction. It would seem I have been inflicted with the basic homo sapien desire to kiss you. But if I were to kiss you now, in this particular circumstance…it would be what people in the film business call a 'cliché'. Frankly, I could not bear the tackiness."

She should be annoyed because he's just completely ruined the moment, but she's caught on the words he uttered with the least amount of emphasis. As if they don't matter, or as if he hasn't even noticed his confession.

…_desire to kiss you._

"I'd…I'd like to go inside now," she tells him. _I'd like to kiss you too._

"Oh…yes. The rain's stopped. Good." He sits perfectly still while she disentangles herself, curiously cold as her weight leaves his lap. When he's towering over her once again, she feels the desperate need to take his hand, and does. His fingers are stiff and unpractised against hers and she realises…

Sheldon has never held hands with a woman he isn't related to.

He inspects the joining of their palms and fingers like he doesn't quite understand the mechanics of it: it's a simple enough union, their flesh and bone interlocking tightly. Yet it feels as though they're holding a flame between them.

As though intimacy can be measured in degrees and trapped within the skin. He comes to the conclusion that the only reason she's taken his hand is because she does not feel safe on her own yet. He doesn't blame her. He blames himself, surprisingly. Had he been at the restaurant only an hour earlier, Penny's dignity would not have been compromised. He ponders the ramifications of this as they meander across the lot into the hushed privacy of the lobby, up all four flights of the accursed stairs and through the threshold of Penny's apartment. He has come to another conclusion – that he seems to be softening at the edges due to Penny's influence, when he realises –

"– Oh. We seem to have arrived at your bedroom."

Letting go of her hand is easier than not.

With no contact between them, Penny starts to quiver again. The touch of his religiously washed hands had temporarily smoothed away the calloused, gritty memory of the man at the restaurant. The man with carnal lust in his eyes, with a strong arm and foul mouth –

"Penny, please refrain from crying again," Sheldon pleads. The sight of it makes his skin crawl. "Look. I'll – I'll continue to hold your hand." He catches her fingers with only a small amount of reluctance.

It's funny how often her heart controls her head.

The people who have become her closest friends are all men of science: people who know the chemistry behind emotion; who can show the act of falling in love as an equation. It doesn't make a lot of sense, that she who follows her dreams and lets her hormones get the best of her should turn to no less than the most calculating of these men and find solace. Penny is a woman with experience when it comes to men. Almost every man who's had her heart has broken it, including her own father.

She's smart enough to know she has feelings, but that's not what she's thinking of. Tonight Sheldon Cooper has saved a piece of her, and that fact alone is enough to make her kiss him.

He actually pulls away at first, shocked and stiff lipped. He moves his head back about an inch before she fills the space and catches his lips a second time. His mouth tastes like spices and reminds her of faraway places. It's bizarre; given all the physics that pours from there every day she's expected him to taste of ink and numbers and cold hard facts – the flavour of the educated. Does he even _know_ he's had this exotic flavour of escape inside him all along?

Though he has had no practise, Sheldon does not find it difficult, what comes next. He draws her into his arms and fits his mouth to hers at a much more agreeable angle. These actions are nothing but a product of Penny's dishevelled state of mind, of her need to take affirmative action and be treated with respect after having the power taken away from her. He feels obliged to grant her this. What he doesn't expect is just how far they take it. The sounds of a door clicking shut; air being exhaled like a pant; clothes hitting the floor with a determined thud: these noises are a mystery to him because he cannot comprehend the speed at which they are occurring. When did he kick his shoes off? How did Penny come to be straddling his lap? These questions turn thin and reedy, unimportant compared to the fact that whatever they're doing, it seems to be providing Penny with the consolation she needs. It's certainly more helpful than his original idea of soup might have been.

Penny feels as if she's made of glass and that's the way he holds her, as if she could splinter at any moment. She doesn't want to be cradled, however. She's in the race of her life, trying to outrun the memories of the car park. The faster they move the easier it is to keep focused, to forget about what she's running from.

"_Listen, I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you are."_

"_Yeah…thanks. Look I'm not feeling well, I need to get home." _

Her hands grip the back of Sheldon's head as she kisses him, drawing his tongue into her mouth, intending to suck the innocence from him because hers was lost long ago.

"_Sorry, you're making me a little uncomfortable. Can you let me get to my car?"_

"_But I want to come with you. I want to –"_

They both stutter as he sinks into her, bodies flowing through the motions though their minds have come to a standstill. His hands write equations into the skin of her back, calculating the exact quantity of desperation in her eyes, the urgency of the rhythm in her hips.

"_Stop saying that, it's disgusting. Get out of my way so I can get to my car." _

"_Typical. Just because your eyes outshine the sun you think you can talk to me like I'm nothing."_

"Get out of my way!" Penny gasps without meaning to. Sheldon runs a hand through her hair, smoothing away the knots.

"There there," he manages, because that's all she needs.

She nods, her eyes closed. Then she starts to move faster. They grind and spasm and she moans in equal parts fear and satisfaction. It's rough and jangling but the right kind, the kind she needs to keep her mind in the present. She drags her nails up his back, unable to forget the way she'd scraped them down _his_ face when he wouldn't let go.

"_Get off me you bastard! You're hurting my arm!!"_

"_Shut up, I just want to kiss you!" _

Sheldon is doing his best to keep up, letting her take the lead, allowing her to tangle her fingers into his hair and tug even though it makes his eyes water. There are too many chemical reactions happening to him at once: his pupils are dilated, his arteries are constricting, and his temperature is rising to a dangerous level. Not to mention the insane speed of the electrical impulses firing through his brain. How can this mess of hormones and fingernails be the object of every man's desire? It's damaging, it's frightening…and probably a danger to his health. The next time Wolowitz brings it up he's going to have a serious debate ready. Of course all that goes out the window the moment he comes. It's like solving an equation, having a string theory epiphany and seeing the new Star Trek film all at once: all encompassing, thrilling, enough to make him quiver. He's too blinded by this exquisite torture to realise that the cause of it is in the midst of her own terrifying bliss.

Penny comes moments after Sheldon, locking against him tight enough to restrict his breathing – not that she can help it. She's never been so rattled over such a quick climax. The echoes of her screams mingle with the shouts in her mind, chasing away the demons. Beneath her closed eyes she can see herself kneeing the man in the gut, running to the door of her car and hitting the accelerator. She presses her forehead into Sheldon's shoulder, gripping him for dear life as she remembers the man's silhouette growing smaller in her rear vision mirror. She doesn't move for several minutes. The silence in the room is heavy enough to keep her pinned to Sheldon.

"Penny," he whispers eventually into her hair, "How do you feel now?"

She brushes her lips over the skin of his neck, lightly enough for it to go unfelt.

"Safe," she says and feels him exhale in relief.

They avoid eye contact as she removes herself from his lap and crawls under the covers. She buries her head into her pillow, the fabric warm beneath her fingers. Sheldon eyes the opposite side of the bed with something akin to yearning.

"I slept here last time," he says quietly, a question.

She pats the pillow. "I know."

He rises from the bed, trying to hide his modesty from her curious gaze as he pulls on his clothes.

She doesn't say anything as he slides beneath the covers fully dressed. After all, he has just gone far out of his comfort zone for her. The least she can do is let him return to it unjudged. They lie with a fault line between them that they dare not cross.

Penny doesn't mind giving him space; she's too spent to mind much about anything. Sheldon's eyes flick back and forth between the sheets and her face, never settling.

"Sheldon?"

"Yes Penny?"

"Thankyou."

He moves onto his back and stares at the ceiling. "You're welcome." He stares for all of five seconds before turning back to face her. "Penny, why did you only make your presence known to me in the garage? Leonard would have been perfectly willing and able to comfort you by highlighting your positive attributes."

"I know… but I like the way you say it."

"How exactly do I say it?"

Her smile is like candy floss, wispy and sweet. "Like they're facts, not opinions. Like if someone questioned it I could say 'go check this book out'. The Book of Penny."

Sheldon yawns and nods. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but he's willing to let it pass.


	5. Chapter 5

_The fifth time, everyone finds out. _

It's been a week since the last time and things have pretty much returned to normal.

Penny busts into the comic book store and nerds everywhere stand awestruck in their vests and glasses. One even takes a breath from his inhaler. She's a wild mess of a woman with flawless skin and desperation in her eyes. Nobody is sure of how to react to the intrusion of this panther upon their sanctuary.

Nobody, that is, except her boys.

Leonard recognises her first, his face lighting with a smile. Howard nods seductively in greeting and Raj gives her a meek little wave.

The one she's actually looking for has his back turned, his nose buried into the _X Men_ section, oblivious as usual.

"Sheldon!" she shouts, "I need you!"

At this he spins on the spot, eyes flying up to find hers wide in equal parts frustration and relief. Never mind that he knows this agitation is most likely directed at him, he has inadvertently kept himself on red alert for those three words. After the last time she needed someone, he's started to keep his eyes and ears open for any sign that Penny requires his help.

Finally getting hold of him is such a relief, Penny almost forgets the reason she's hunted him down. It doesn't take long to remember. "What did you do to my laptop?" she demands, stalking towards him.

_Oh. _"Penny, you're interrupting New Comic Book Day and you aren't even in any sort of great peril?"

She takes the _Wolverine _comic and whacks him on the arm. He flinches. Not because it hurt, but because that's a special edition and she's crinkling it.

"I _am_ in peril, you whack-a-doodle! It's frozen on Age of Conan and I need it to print out my references! I have an audition this afternoon and I _need _those papers!"

He gives her a blank look. "I fail to see how that is my fault."

She smacks him again. He flinches again. "That new version of Conan you put on takes too long to start up. It's sitting there loading and I can't do anything with it in the mean time, like print my references!"

"If you would care to lower your voice, Penny, I'd be happy to take a look at your computer once we return home."

She shakes her head. "No, my audition's in two hours. You guys only just got here; it's going to be like an hour before you even get home."

"How are you aware of the time we arrived here?" he asks, surprised.

Penny can't really answer. It's just something she's come to know, just as sure as she knows _this_ about Sheldon Cooper: he's totally dependable. For all the months she'd thought of him as anal, predictable and downright stubborn when it came to routine, she looks at him now and realises it all means that she can always depend on him. She can always find him in a crisis because she's unconsciously learnt the timetable to his life off by heart.

"Where else would you be on a Wednesday?" she answers offhandedly.

To the contrary, Sheldon realised a while ago what he actually does like about Penny. Today is a perfect example: she makes the day interesting. She's unpredictable and flies helter skelter into everything and more often than not that gets her into trouble. He hates that about other people but because it's Penny, the woman who sings Soft Kitty even when he's not sick, he thinks it's not so bad. She messes up his routines but though he'll never admit so, he does sometimes enjoy himself because of it.

"It's New Comic Book Day. I'm not leaving before I've chosen a new comic," he tells her.

"Sheldon, just out of curiosity," Howard asks thoughtfully, "Do you not fear death, or is it that you just don't understand what its glare is?"

Penny is certainly giving him a look that says bad things will happen if he doesn't comply. Dark, apocalyptic things.

"Good lord," he mutters to himself. "Fine. Allow me just ten minutes and then I'll come home with you."

The sentence brings the hint of a blush to Penny's cheeks as she nods, but he doesn't notice. "Just one more thing," he adds.

"What?"

He looks pointedly at her hand. "May I have that comic back now?"

***

She's watching, fidgeting, over his shoulder.

"See? The screen's frozen."

"It's become clear to me why. This is through no fault of my own."

"Oh really?" she asks defiantly.

Sheldon points to the programs lined up on the frozen tool bar.

"Can you explain to me why you had eight programs running at the same time as the computer game, Penny?"

At this she steps back and starts to look through her fridge, sheepish. "I was getting everything ready for my audition while I waited for the next level to load."

"Really? Can you then explain how Solitaire and…" he squints to read the title of the page, "_Bluefly Online Shopping_ aids you in audition preparation?"

She takes a half empty water bottle from the fridge and takes a mouthful. "I was bored, okay?" she cracks under his stare, "How was I supposed to know the stupid computer couldn't do that many things at once?"

"Well, common sense, for starters."

Penny rolls her eyes and flops onto the couch. He's in his 'Penny's apartment' seat, cradling the laptop with a condescending look aimed at her.

"So how long will it take to fix?" she asks.

"Not long. Five minutes or so. I merely have to –"

"Sweetie, you know I'm not going to follow your plan of attack," she interrupts politely. Sheldon nods his acquiescence and bends over the computer.

She's taking another sip of her water when she realises he's watching her. She licks her lips. "What?"

"Did you know that exactly ninety-one point two percent of the water in the bottom of your bottle is own your saliva?"

She sets the bottle down. "No, I didn't. Thanks."

He looks at the screen again, typing quickly. "You're welcome."

She wants to watch him work. She creeps around behind him and peers over his shoulder again. She doesn't get to watch for very long.

"Done," he announces as the screen flares to life.

Penny gives a little 'yip' in relief. "Oh, thankyou so much. Thankyou –" without even thinking about it she plants a kiss on his cheek. It's not a big grand gesture; it doesn't make the ground move. It's chaste but well meant, and though it's the first time she's kissed him so casually it comes as naturally as breathing. She gives a little half shrug and stands back.

Sheldon, for the most part, looks thoroughly flustered.

"Penny," he draws her name out slowly, contemplating the history behind it. He sets the laptop on the desk and swivels in his chair to face her. "I…I've been meaning to apologise for last week."

She pulls a face, leaning into the counter behind him. There were a few times last week when he'd jerked her chain. "Last week?"

"When I found you in the garage…"

Realisation dawns. "Oh…you want to _apologise_ for that?" She folds her arms, more to protect herself than for comfort. Because she's _not_ feeling comfortable at the moment. "Why?"

"It seems my body finally succumbed to the basic human desire to engage in carnal activities. Before you say anything, I'd just like to point out that I did not mean to take advantage of you. As I am now aware, you're my friend. One of my most highly regarded companions, as a matter of fact." He's holding a couch pillow in his arms, unconsciously twisting the corners in his hands. She can't get him to meet her eye. "To see you in such distress that night invoked a very primal male instinct in me to provide comfort where I had failed to provide protection."

She blinks. "You're saying you only slept with me because you felt guilty?"

He looks a little disgruntled, as he usually does when she feels the need to simplify his perfectly obvious explanation. "In effect, yes."

"Well…" she doesn't know what to say. She was certain this was going to be the start of a journey, not the end of something too new to have a name.

"Wait, you said 'finally'. Do you mean that was your…you know, first time?"

"I would have thought that was obvious."

_Well, it __**was**__ quick._

"I – wasn't really all there in my head..." She places her hand on his arm. "Sheldon, you gave up your first time for me. I didn't even…do anything for you. I'm sorry. If I'd known…"

"Penny, you received consolation from it. That's all that mattered."

There is silence for a few minutes. It's awkward for him, wondering what she's being so quiet about. It's thoughtful for her, because she can't begin to comprehend where all Sheldon's generosity has been hiding for so long. Why has he been giving so much, and why has she done nothing but take? Sheldon takes up a new position next to her on the couch, leaning toward her a little.

"Do you know where the phrase 'penny for your thoughts' originated from?" he asks conspiratorially. She shakes her head, both in answer and to clear it of thoughts. There are a variety of replies hanging off the tip of her tongue: _I assume you're going to tell me anyway; oh yeah, I learnt that back in third grade; I don't really care._ The nicest words have always been there. She's just never thought to use them until now.

"No, Sheldon," she says softly, "Tell me."

"Well there was an Englishman named John Heywood who wrote a two-hundred page book called _'A dialogue conteinying the nomber in effect of all the proverbs in the English tongue'_ in 1546, which was later called _'The Proverbs of John Heywood',_ which is actually a misnomer because he never claimed to have created the proverbs in the book. In this is the earliest known citation of the line, "A penny for your thoughts." While it's unlikely that he created this phrase himself, there isn't actually any documentation to tell us how much further back it might go." He takes a breath and then realises something odd. "You actually wanted to know?"

She smiles gently and nods, because she's figured something out and it doesn't make her at all nervous.

"It's also the title of an episode from Twilight Zone."

"Interesting."

He frowns at her. "Sarcasm?"

"No…I've just thought of something. Do you want to know what it is?"

He gives the faintest smile. "I assume you're going to tell me anyway."

Sheldon. Making a joke. "Good for you," she laughs.

Penny ponders what she's remembered. Sheldon's mother's voice, running through her head. _You have to take your time with Sheldon…you have to let him come to you._

Yeah. Right. She's not waiting twenty years for him to realise he has feelings.

She beckons him closer with a finger, and he leans his head toward hers.

"I think you _like_ me," she whispers into his ear.

He doesn't look shocked. He doesn't look defensive. He looks as if he's just received some divine answer.

"Oh is _that_ what it is?" he exclaims. She can hear the tiniest squeak in his voice. "I suppose it must be." He smacks his head. "Of _course_! I thought I was becoming ill!"

Penny laughs. What more can she do? "You thought you were _sick_?"

"I've been experiencing hot flushes, an insatiable hunger, quivering nerves and the most ridiculous desire to visit your bedroom. I thought I was suffering delusions!"

She's still laughing as she wriggles her way into his arms.

"You're hopeless," she says, as Sheldon continues to sit open mouthed, his arms unconsciously slipping around her back. "Haven't you ever felt this way before?"

"Well, once in eighth grade. I used to play chess with a girl called Mandy Thompson. I thought it was just the questionable pork they served in the cafeteria."

Her hands reach around his neck; one hand starts to weave into his hair, playing with the soft strands around the top of his ear.

Sheldon is still too surprised that hasn't thought of this himself. "I can't believe –"

She doesn't find out what he can't believe, because she turns the rest of his sentence into a kiss.

Her nose bumps against his as she squirms in his grip, their mouths mingling as if they've done this a thousand times before. However, this is the first time their kiss has been about _them._ Not guilt, not comfort or fear or frivolity, but purely _Penny and Sheldon._

The realisation of this makes him awkward and gangly all of a sudden, as if he's never touched her before. Penny takes this as her cue to drag him to the bedroom before the old Sheldon resurfaces. The Sheldon who talks so fast she can't keep up, who considers romance a weakness. He follows her through the door like a humble student, mute and waiting for instructions.

"Are you okay?" she asks gently and he hesitates a second before nodding.

"It's certainly different now that it means something," he answers, gesturing at the bed.

"It means something," she agrees, closing the door. "You…mean something. To me." She locks the door behind her and once again fits herself to his body. For two people with such opposing mental capacities, their bodies seem to fit together as if they were made for this. The irony of it is not lost on him as he kisses her again, the emotions he's been feeling sliding into place. The last pieces of an equation he's been too blind to see. There's the faintest trace of something bitter on her lips: the taste of betrayal. _My apologies, Leonard_, he thinks, because this moment should not belong to him. To Sheldon, she's been the woman across the hall. To Leonard she's the woman of his dreams. To him, she's been the woman who steals his seat. To Leonard she's the one who could have his bed. To him, she's been the woman who burdens them with favours. To Leonard she could never ask too much.

He can rattle off all the cons of this situation, but he has to admit: they're no longer relevant or truthful. He might even be on the same plane as his friend.

But he can't just _be_ _with_ Penny. There are too many unknowns.

He's doomed: Leonard's hopeless Penny delusion has become his own.

***

(You'll have to excuse me for this, but I just watched the BBT ep where Leonard's mum visits…and totally found myself squeeing at drunk L/P kissing. How. Freaking. Cute. And I also squeed JUST A LITTLE at Sheldon/Leonard's mum. And strangely enough adored an 'ersatz homosexual marriage' Raj and Howard. hahahaha *blinks* woah I just realised what I said. Don't know what recesses of my normally S/P brain that came from…but the thoughts have gone now. Phew. Lol)

It's not until Leonard's fitting his key into the lock that it strikes him:

"When did Sheldon put the new AOC onto Penny's laptop?" he ponders, along with the question of why he's unlocking his door when his roommate should be home. And sulking about having to leave the store early.

"If I were you I'd be more concerned with _why _she asked him to do it instead of you," Howard answers, clutching his new _Justice League of America_ comic to his chest.

Raj has already started reading his _Batman_ comic, stopping only when he nearly trips on the top stair.

"What's Sheldon doing with Penny?" he asks, looking up at them both.

"They're not doing anything," Leonard answers quickly. It's more for his own benefit than anyone else's. His key is jammed in the lock; he jiggles it. "Sheldon!" he calls through the door, "Come let us in!"

Nobody comes to greet them.

Leonard tries Penny's door, but she doesn't answer. He tries not to think of the times she's sent him away when he knocked, and how she opens it wide when Sheldon gives his 'three knock' pattern. He twists the handle and the door opens.

"The Cheesecake Goddess must be home," says Howard. As they let themselves in, Raj nervously tucks his comic under his arm, already falling mute.

"Or not," he says the next second, because the apartment is obviously empty.

Leonard's eyes sweep anxiously over the room. Something isn't adding up.

"Have either of you tried calling them?" he asks, inspecting Penny's laptop that sits open on the coffee table. The screen gives no secrets away…except maybe one: for the past month Penny has had – much to his chagrin – a wallpaper of Brad Pitt on her computer. He frowns, wondering why a woman who really isn't all that interested in science should suddenly have a wallpaper of the Horse head Nebula.

"I can't," Howard says wistfully, "Penny made me delete her number after…well, you know." His expression turns to one of pride. "It was totally worth it."

They look to Raj. "Oh, yeah," he says sarcastically, "Like I'm going to have a lot to say to Penny on the phone."

"Can you check her bedroom?" Leonard asks, digging out his cell phone.

"Hey, I could do that –"

"Howard you're not allowed within two feet of Penny's bedroom and you know it," Leonard replies, "Anything?" he adds to Raj.

"I can't see."

"Why not?"

"Well, the door is kind of…" he jiggles the handle pointedly, "Locked."

Leonard's stomach turns as he pushes Raj out of the way and raps on the door.

Howard, as ever, has his camera phone waiting.

***

_She hears hoof beats. _

_Thud. Thud. Thud. It's a steady rhythm, like a drumbeat across the sand. It sounds so very close but when she turns her head to see, she's standing alone in the desert. It's hot. She fans her face, only to find that her fingers have become numbers. A time. She reads them. It's four thirty. She's late for something – _

Penny wakes to find her cheek pressed to a man's chest, his heart beating a solo against her ear. There are arms strategically placed over her shoulders; she can feel them twitching with the electricity conducted in something new. _Sheldon_. It's the first time they've fallen asleep with no space between them. And then she remembers. Everything. The kiss. The boys. The –

"Audition –"

"Don't panic," Sheldon hushes her, "You were only asleep for six minutes."

She rises onto her elbows and inspects his lips. "But you –"

"I have not yet fallen asleep, Penny. How could I? It's only the afternoon."

"Oh really? Then why is there drool on your chin?" she points out, "Am I just that much fun to look at?"

He frowns and wipes his mouth, inspecting the back of his hand. "How could I possibly have fallen asleep and not remembered?"

Penny's not sure why they always fall asleep after sex. She thinks it's not so much to do with being tired as it is with being too comfortable to move. She's been dangerously content sleeping next to Sheldon. If not for hunger, she probably wouldn't have left the bed last time. 

"Crap," she stiffens all of a sudden, "If you slept too…we missed the day! I missed my audition! And the boys –"

She rolls out of bed and Sheldon follows cautiously.

"I apologise for making you late," he says, methodically pulling on his layers of clothing. As Penny moves in a flurry to get ready she snatches glances of him, mindful of his shyness when naked. It's peculiar, but with each inch of skin that he covers, he turns back into the Sheldon she knows. It's like watching a butterfly return to the folds of its cocoon.

She gives him a smile that dissipates his guilt. "Better to miss the audition than miss you," she answers, running a comb through her hair. "I'm just worried about what the guys are bound to be thinking."

To her surprise, Sheldon scoffs. "They're going to reach this conclusion in due time," he says, "Unless you wish to discontinue this involvement?" There's a faint taste in his mouth that's both sweet and sour: one part hope, two parts fear. She stops bustling around to stand in his space, holding her hands against his chest.

"I…I don't know what I'm going to say to Leonard yet," she mutters.

"Nor me. I'm well aware that in just under two months I've accomplished every endeavour my best friend has ever set out on in regards to you."

"I wouldn't put it like that when you tell him."

"I thought not. Penny," Sheldon's head unconsciously dips to feel the brush of her fringe on his cheek. He's not in control of these little actions; if he was he'd never be brave enough to move. "You _do_ wish to announce this, don't you?"

"I just need time to think of what to tell Leonard, okay?" she whispers, and he nods. Penny kisses his lips just once, brief and swift, before heading to the door…

…only to be subjected to the suspicious click of Howard's phone.

***

_Leonard is too wrapped up in Stephanie that night to notice that his roommate has not returned home. It's only when it happens again two weeks later that he pays attention. Stephanie has just left him. Not only has she robbed him of a relationship but of sleep as well. At two in the morning he's still awake; awake enough to hear the front door open and shut, the footsteps that ensue. He listens as they pad a trail into Sheldon's room; until he has stopped following his roommate's pre-sleep rituals in his mind; until the suspicion in his heart has died down to a murmur so quietly pointless he chooses not to hear it. _

Leonard can no longer tell himself he imagined that night.

It's obvious from the red that spreads like a stain across Penny and Sheldon's cheeks; the averted gaze his best friend holds; the buttons on Sheldon's shirt that aren't done up. "I don't believe this," he growls. "How _could _you?"

Penny doesn't cower. She's not scared of Leonard; she's a grown woman and she can date whoever she wants. Still, it's comforting when Sheldon's hand creeps up to rest on the small of her back.

"After everything we've been through?" Leonard continues. Penny gathers the words for a reply but before she can say anything he reaches past her to grab Sheldon's shirt and drag him into the living room. Not an easy feat, given their size difference, but he's driven by jealously and anger and the sting of betrayal – all the emotions that make his hand into a fist as he punches Sheldon square in the face. Howard and Raj are useless, standing in awe at their friends as if they're witnessing a rare solar eclipse. It might also be the blood now streaming from Sheldon's nose that makes them reluctant to take action. Things happen in a blur, one moment leading to another that melts into the next:

Penny shoves Leonard away. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" she shrieks.

"Me? What's the matter with _you_?" Leonard shouts back.

They stomp out of the apartment, swearing and shouting the whole way into 4A.

Sheldon sinks to the floor, his face crumpled in pain.

Raj runs to the bathroom; his bladder can't handle this.

Howard stands in awkward silence with Sheldon. After a moment, he leers suggestively. "So is Penny good in the sack?"

Sheldon holds his broken nose and glares at him. "I want that picture _off_ your phone."

***

Leonard is a wildcard.

All the times he's clamped his mouth shut, turned his pain into work, looked the other way when she'd invited another man into her apartment – there's none of that now. He's graphic and foul mouthed in describing the way he feels. This woman has broken his heart one too many times. He should by rights be yelling at Sheldon – his best friend, who has always known the depth of his devotion to Penny, who has nursed his heart back to health on numerous occasions in the best way he knows how. _He's _the one that should have a broken arm to match his nose.

Yet it's so much more satisfying to yell at the woman who's caused him such sorrow in the first place.

Penny has tried getting through to him, but with every word she says it's interrupted by four from him. Now she's barely aware of the words being hauled at her like bullets. Every second word starts with an 'f'; the kind of language she'd never thought sweet little Leonard was capable of. If she were to listen to his argument she'd probably feel the need to wash his mouth out. No, it's better to let him vent now until he's calm enough to talk to her like an adult. _What a Sheldon way of thinking_, she acknowledges. She's the youngest one here, yet she's the one thinking maturely. She braces her hands on her hips and glares at him, waiting for the storm to break.

"…dumped me because I was too hung up on _you_!" Leonard takes a long breath, one that makes him shudder. He wipes his damp brow and finally acknowledges that shouting is not going to help anymore. The apartment is utterly silent; the tension can be cut with a knife.

"Can I explain now?" Penny asks in a voice so quiet he has to strain to hear it. Good. That's how she wants it, with herself in control. "Or are you going to keep acting like all the morons I've dated before Sheldon?"

This stops any reply forthcoming.

"I don't love him."

Leonard's ears want to perk up, but he knows this isn't all she has to say.

"But I really, _really_ like him. I don't have to tell you how different he is. 'Different' is an _under_statement when describing him."

"That's what I don't understand," Leonard says weakly, sinking onto the couch. "He's just as self-centred as any other man."

"Because you're being so much better right now," she remarks sarcastically. "You _know_ he's not selfish in the way my past boyfriends have been. He's not just being a jerk, or lazy. He's –"

"If you say a genius I'll yell again."

She sits down beside him – in Sheldon's seat, he notes. Is it because she can feel his best friend's presence in the grooves? How far has this evolved?

As if she can read the question on his lips, Penny says: "It…it hasn't meant anything until recently." She winces at what's about to come.

"What do you mean 'recently'?"

"Don't yell –"

"– I'm not promising anything –"

"– but we kind of slept together twice before last night."

It takes a phenomenal amount of energy to bite his tongue. "When…?"

"It doesn't matter. Those times didn't mean anything."

He doesn't know what's worse – Penny sleeping with Sheldon for fun, or because she loves him.

"I'm sorry, Leonard," Penny murmurs.

He gives her a grim smile. "Sorry I found out?"

She shakes her head, noticing the way he's cradling his hand. "Does that hurt?"

He nods. "My first fist fight," he acknowledges bitterly. "With my best friend."

"Give it to me," she moves to take his hand but he holds it firm to his chest.

"I'm the scientist," he says, "That's a little closer to a doctor than a waitress."

It's the first time he's said anything intentionally hurtful, but she thinks that fair enough, she deserves it.

"Leonard," she pleads with him, "I was _over_ dating guys like Kurt months ago. I've just never moved far enough away from that type before, and that's why it never worked." She lifts her chin, defiant, stubborn: "And how much farther away can I get than Sheldon Cooper?"

***

"Ow!"

"Stop moving and it won't hurt!"

"I _highly_ disagree," Sheldon retorts, pulling his face away from Raj's hands.

"I give up," he says, looking to Howard for assistance that isn't forthcoming. "He has less pain tolerance than a toddler."

"It's not my fault you're pushing my dorsum around like it's an Xbox controller!" Sheldon scowls, taking the frozen pea packet from Raj's hands.

"Dude, you're lucky I'm even speaking to you," he replies.

"Oh please. You suffer from pathological shyness, Rajesh. If you ceased to converse with me you'd only have Leonard and Wolowitz and to engage in conversation with."

"I think I could live with that," Raj replies dryly.

"I just can't understand why she chose _you_ of all people," Howard says, deep in thought.

"Will you stop thinking about Penny for _one second _and help me?" Sheldon asks, adding: "You've had your nose broken by women on numerous occasions. You should know what to do."

"Yeah, go to the hospital!" Raj interjects, taking a seat on the couch.

"I'm not going anywhere until Penny comes back," he replies stubbornly. His attitude quickly gives way to the kind of concern hidden behind a blank face that only Sheldon is capable of. "They've stopped yelling. Do you suppose she's all right?"

"Maybe he killed her."

"_Sheldon,_" Howard says, "She picked Sheldon."

"Yes!" Sheldon barks, "For reasons that are incomprehensible to your feeble mind, Penny has chosen me as a sexual and romantic partner. Must you continue to repeat it?"

"Don't get all up his grille about his woman," Raj mocks. "But seriously dude…when did this happen?"

Sheldon tilts his head forward so he can breathe properly, and tries to put into words what he feels when he's with Penny. They'll never understand, because neither does he. "One month, twenty-two days and fourteen hours ago," he tells them. When he speaks of her, even numbers sound curled at the edges. "I presented Penny with an experiment." He stumbles quickly over the next words. It stuns the two men, as they have never known Sheldon Cooper to blush. "I wished to establish my status as a sexual partner whilst proving a theory that all it took to satisfy a woman was the correct sequence of movements."

Howard is staring at the back of Sheldon's neck all of a sudden.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking for an 'off' switch. You _must_ be a robot. I'm a nerd, and even _I _can't talk about chicks like they're science experiments."

Raj laughs quietly. Sheldon smiles just the tiniest bit. "Ironic, considering she's now dating _me,_" he remarks dryly and Howard glowers at Raj, who continues to laugh.

"So when was the next time?" Howard asks moodily.

"_Penny…how do you feel now?" _

"_Safe."_

He doesn't feel safe right now, because he has no knowledge of how to proceed through a night like this. What's the protocol for essentially stealing your best friend's crush? Things like this just _don't_ happen to him. These are the domestic events of a television show with drawn out dramatic pauses and actors with nice hair. When did his life turn into a TV drama?

"That is classified information," he says at last. "Penny requested that I not divulge the events of that evening."

The guys' chests visibly deflate with disappointment.

Sheldon looks longingly toward the door. "Do you suppose Leonard has calmed down now?"

"I don't know man; he hit you pretty hard," says Howard. "The only reason I didn't hit you was because he got there first."

Raj gives him a 'yeah right' look.

"What? You did just step right in take away the Vanilla-Scented Goddess, the Waitress from Heaven, the –"

"Stop it," Sheldon interrupts. "Her name is Penny and nothing less." He stands up slowly, wincing as his finger presses against his nose, and heads for the door. "I'm going to see what's happening."

Raj and Howard watch as he disappears from Penny's apartment, holding his head at a ridiculous angle to keep the blood from seeping onto his Batman shirt.

"Seriously," says Howard again. "_Sheldon_?"

***

Penny is sitting in his spot.

He pokes his head cautiously around the door, keeping his eyes glued on Leonard for any sign of violent intent.

"May I be involved in this discussion now?" he asks, wetting his lips anxiously.

"You're safe for now. I'm no longer planning to separate your testis from your scrotum," Leonard says, his sharp tone losing its edge somewhat by the end. "How's your nose?" He's not entirely capable of keeping up this tough act that he's put on.

"I'm in excruciating pain."

"Good." Or maybe he is.

Sheldon edges his way around the couch and before he can even say it, Penny has moved over. He sits in his seat with a thankful glance at her, because right now he _needs_ his spot. He also needs to tend to his nose. He wouldn't say she's read his thoughts because psychics don't exist, but Penny goes to find the first aid kit they keep and comes back with gauze and painkillers.

Leonard squirms, unable to look away when Penny gently replaces the soaked tissue with a gauze pad and hands Sheldon the painkillers, which he refuses because he can't stomach anything at this moment.

"Penny, could I speak with Leonard in private?" he asks quietly. Her eyes dart between the both of them, as if gauging the risk of leaving them alone. Apparently she no longer sees Leonard as a threat, because she nods and heads for the door.

"One shout and I'll have you _both_ hog tied," she threatens before going back to her apartment.

"So," Leonard ventures, his fingers forming a steeple. "I don't forgive you, just to make matters clear."

Sheldon half shrugs. "I suspected as much. The odds of you forgiving me would be about one –"

"Sheldon. Please."

For once, he listens.

Both scientists contemplate where to go from here. How do they break this silence, the loudest thing either of them has ever heard? It's filled with punches, questions and accusations, hurt: the sounds of a friendship straining under the weight of disloyalty. Sheldon briefly ponders just going to his room to let things settle, but rejects the premise because they've yet to reach any stable ground, thus nothing could possibly settle. Instead, he gives a purposeful cough.

"Have you any idea of when you might be willing to forgive me?"

Leonard scoffs. "How about 'I'm sorry for lying, Leonard?'"

"I'm sorry for lying, Leonard." He raises an eyebrow. "Did that mean anything?"

"No," his friend admits.

"Exactly. I only said it because you wanted me to. Let me elaborate on this my way, Leonard."

"I'm not sure I want to hear it your way, to be honest." Leonard replies, getting to his feet. He hugs his arms around himself and stares into the depth of his whiteboard. So many equations…he'd identified the fingerprints of string theory in the aftermath of the big bang, so why hadn't he been able to see something as comparatively simple as this coming?

"I'm a scientist, Leonard."

"I'm aware."

"Yet recently I have come to an astounding conclusion: when I'm in the presence of Penny…I don't feel like a scientist."

Leonard's arms fall to his sides. He turns around. "Oh?"

"I become unsettled. I suffer from sweaty palms and jittering nerves. In short…I feel human…and it doesn't frighten me. In fact it makes me wonder how I've lived so long without feeling this way."

"Sheldon…"

"I'm aware that due to my involvement with Penny, our friendship may temporarily be put on hiatus until you feel comfortable. Just think on this: when have I ever shown an interest in women? I would not knowingly cause trouble over a woman unless I was seriously inflicted with feelings for her."

Leonard has to smile, however grudgingly. "Don't let Penny hear you describe it as 'inflicted.'"

"Are you giving me advice?"

He sniffs. He's not giving Sheldon any help with this. "No."

Sheldon twists on the couch to face Leonard properly. "Look at it this way: with Penny no longer a viable option, you can rekindle your relationship with Stephanie."

"Yeah, because it's that easy. And yes, that was sarcasm."

"I picked up on that, thankyou," Sheldon replies defensively. Suddenly his expression softens; he looks at his friend with shame. "I _do_ apologise, Leonard." He gets up from the couch and faces him. "I regret hurting your feelings."

Leonard nods gratefully.

It's not much, but it's a start.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, I have a lot of points to get through in this so I'll put it in note form to make them simple:

I tried to write the first part from personal experience, then tried to infuse their characters to the reactions. I think it worked…I hope. This kind of thing actually happened in my group of friends. My best girlfriend left her boyfriend for his best friend. Things were…unsettled, to say the least. I have no qualms mentioning it because none of them venture into the Paradox world.

I thought it'd be worth mentioning that probably the previous two chapters and so forth are kind of set after the second last episode of season two, so after all the adorable _moonpies _and other references have been established, but before the boys leave for their expedition.

I know the paragraphing is a little different for this next bit, but it's really just to keep the emphasis on each character's POV.

Raj can talk while they're rock climbing because Penny's pretty far up above him and not directly speaking to him.

Enjoy the smuff while you can, because the next chapters are going to get pretty grim indeed.

_The sixth time, it's love._

They're still walking on eggshells.

Leonard refuses to be on the same team as Sheldon for Wii Bowling; he'll drive him to work but only if the radio is loud enough to drown any chance for conversation.

He does not ask how things are going between his friend and Penny.

Raj tiptoes around the apartment like a mouse when he visits. If they thought he was quiet before, they are surprised to learn just how easily he can blend into the background when things become uncomfortable.

Howard has been chastised one too many times. He's foolishly figured he could exploit Sheldon's naivety about relationships to gain information on Penny's bedroom habits. Not only does he sulk for this, but he's also disappointed in his fellow man to learn that the two have not slept together since the night of the fight.

So is Penny.

The excitement of having Sheldon Cooper in her bed is nothing but a memory now, a distant imprint on her left pillow. Things are too awkward to contemplate moving forward. She misses the ease with which she and Leonard used to move through the motions of their routines. She misses being welcomed with open arms into 4A.

Sheldon wants _out_ of 4A.

He feels as if he's been exiled from the one place he can be comfortable. Never mind his cushion, the entire _apartment_ is his 0000. He makes attempts at conversation with Leonard throughout dinner and TV commercials, but he might as well be a woman talking to Raj for all the response he gets. The place has never been so quiet, so flat with plain and simple _unrest_. He's never suspected he would notice the absence of Leonard's friendship so much.

The guys still function as if they're friends, but it only takes a keen eye to see through to the core of them. Their smiles are thin; the silence that follows each sentence is not companionable. It drives Penny mad, because she's the only one who wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The boys just turn their heads. She wonders if she'll ever feel the sunshine of their friendship again.

It's Anything Can Happen Thursday but instead of finding only Sheldon, Penny opens the door to see all four men in their respective seats.

"Hey guys," she ventures, when no one turns around to greet her.

Sheldon immediately breaks away from the TV to offer her a shy smile. "Good evening, Penny."

"Yeah, what he said," adds Howard. They seem to be watching some kind of anime cartoon. It must be important, if the engineer can't take his eyes off the screen to leer at her. Not that she minds.

"Hey," comes one short call from Leonard.

Raj waves distractedly.

"Why aren't you out tonight?" she asks, "It's –"

"We know the significance of tonight," Leonard interrupts, "But Howard just bought the new _Evangelion _DVD."

Penny's surprised that Leonard is willingly talking to her. Maybe the DVD has put him in a good mood; maybe it is a slip of the tongue, the same as when Raj talks without realising it. Maybe it's because his hand no longer aches. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

She makes no sudden moves, acting cool as she helps herself to a cup of coffee. If she makes a big deal of it, he might be spooked and retreat into himself again. Nobody says anything more while she moves through the kitchen, though she's aware Sheldon is following her with his eyes. She makes sure not to chink the spoon against the mug, afraid the slightest noise might break this relatively peaceful quiet.

"So what's this about?" she asks, settling down on the couch next to Sheldon. Their hands seamlessly entwine over their touching legs: wordless consolation in the midst of a storm. She adds in a lower key, a smoother tone: "Let me see," and inspects his nose. Recently free from bandaging, his face is tender – cheekbones bruised, nose swollen and dark purple in places. He flinches as she sweeps her thumb gently over the cut but otherwise makes no fuss.

"The movie stems from the anime and manga television series _Neon Genesis Evangelion_," he explains in a hushed tone.

She frowns. "Isn't that some kind of plant?"

A loud burst of laughter erupts from the vicinity of the armchair. Everyone looks around, bewildered at the sound that has ceased to exist these past three weeks. They marvel at the chuckle that has broken free of Leonard; that seems to have engulfed him. His shoulders shake, eyes flutter; he shakes his head at Penny condescendingly.

"A _plant_?" he repeats.

Penny's eyebrows shoot up, along with the spark of hope inside her that is waiting to rise. Apparently she's said something ignorant. Again. Well. Who cares, if she's finally managed to bring a smile to Leonard's face? The guys all look around, wry grins spreading between them. A tension eases; Penny's hope soars.

Just in time for Anything Can Happen Thursday.

***

_Maybe this wasn't the best idea_, thinks Leonard as he watches his friend cling to the side of the rock climbing wall.

"This is a great idea," Howard says, holding his phone up to video Sheldon. "He has to get over it some time."

"Also, it's fun to watch," adds Raj.

Leonard's eyes flick back and forth between Penny and Sheldon, monitoring the exchanges between them. He's still not used to seeing his friend in the context of _boyfriend_. It's off putting, bearing witness to a Sheldon smile that doesn't make him want to send a warning signal to Batman; a Sheldon who barely glares when she calls him Moonpie.

"Come on sweetie, I'll be right here with you," Penny calls, stretching her hand to pat Sheldon's shoulder. She could have been to the top and down by now, but she's refusing to budge without him, to go where he won't follow.

"Promise?" he replies, starting to lean away from the wall. Penny nods.

Leonard shakes his head in disbelief. "This is so wrong," he comments as they watch the pair start to move in miniscule increments. "Where's the Sheldon _we_ know?"

"Who cares?" says Howard, "At least this one's not crazy. Well, _as_ crazy."

Almost instantly Sheldon balks and resumes his huddling position. His knuckles stand out white in stark relief; he looks like he's going to faint again.

"Penny, you've never done this!" he protests.

"But sweetie I'm not afraid of heights, so it doesn't matter."

His eyes are wide with fear as they lock onto hers. He tips his head up so that only she can hear his whisper: "How can you be so certain I won't fall?"

Penny is not thinking of rock climbing when she finds the hidden stars that swirl in his irises. They explode with emotion only she can see, splintering into flecks of colour, the rosy shades of affection. "I'm not," she whispers.

All protest dies in his throat. Why can't he form a cognitive argument? She's turning him into a mess. Sheldon hardly thinks a conversation about 'feelings' is appropriate hanging eight feet above ground level, but he can't stop himself from speaking.

"I'm not afraid of heights," he says, then in a lower voice meant only for her: "I'm frightened of falling, Penny."

Her gloved hand finds his, weaving their fingers tight.

"Trust me."

Though it's not a question, Sheldon nods. "Without a doubt."

His feet find better places to dig in; he withdraws his fingers from hers to get better purchase on the rocks. "Though that's not to say I haven't forgotten what you did to my cushion."

Penny grins as they begin to make some kind of progress at last.

Reaching the top is as satisfying as solving any equation – Sheldon is practically beaming, only this time it _is_ a little scary.

"Victory!" he exclaims with a fist in the air. The guys are clapping with a modicum of enthusiasm. Penny suspects they were hoping to see him faint again.

"Good job sweetie," she croons and brings a flush to his skin by kissing him in full view of everyone. His stomach drops to a place a lot closer to the ground, though he knows that's a biological impossibility.

He'd be willing to believe it when she says it's time to come down again.

"Penny." The word rushes free with the force of fear behind it.

She's already started to pick out rocks below her, thinking if they just keep moving he won't freak out.

"You looked down, didn't you?" she sighs.

"It was a reflex. I couldn't help it."

Below, the guys gather and prepare for the inevitable.

"Sheldon, don't panic!" Leonard calls unhelpfully.

Sheldon's knees start to quiver; he presses against the wall stiffly.

"He's panicking," Howard narrates.

"Sheldon," Penny says evenly, trying to reach out to him. "Come on, you can do this. You got all the way up here and you can get down too."

"I'm afraid your argument is not strong enough to move me," he replies in a high voice, "Please continue without me."

"You can't stay up here forever."

He flexes his hands against the rocks. "I'm willing to attempt it."

"He's not going anywhere unless he passes out," says Leonard.

"Has anybody got a net?" Raj asks, "Perhaps we could catch him like they do with orang-utans."

Sheldon twists around in his harness, confusedly shifting between climbing up and scaling down.

"Sheldon," Penny says firmly. He twists away from her and stares at the wall as if sheer will can keep him from falling.

Not that he's actually _in_ any danger of that.

"Sheldon. Look at me."

He meets her eyes finally.

"Take a breath."

There's a fine sheen of sweat on his brow; she's not quite sure he's actually seeing her.

"Huh?"

"I said take…a…breath."

"He's too far gone," says Howard.

"He could _not_ be Batman," mumbles Leonard. "Batman's not afraid of heights."

Raj gestures around wildly. "Seriously, has anybody got a net? He looks like he's going to throw himself off!"

Penny tries to grip Sheldon's hands but he's shaking his head and kicking away from the wall. "It's not going to work, Penny," he breathes.

"Sheldon, no, you're doing so well–"

"I'm going to –"

The harness creaks under the weight of his limp body.

There's a collective sigh.

"I'll get help from the front desk," Raj says.

Leonard shakes his head. "_So_ close," he says wistfully.

Penny can't help but smile a little. She'd gotten him to the _top_, at least.

Well, perhaps baby steps are best.

***

"I still can't believe you haven't seen this episode," Leonard says and Penny smacks his arm for quiet as she leans forward in her seat. Sheldon throws a glare in the direction of his friend for good measure. Truth is, Sheldon isn't watching Rose fall screaming into the void. His eyes are riveted to Penny's reaction, the way her pupils dilate and her breathing shortens. The eerie blue of the screen reflects on her cheeks, making her look so incredibly sad. The facets of her face thrill him to no end, more than any _Doomsday_ repeat ever could.

The thought barely surprises him as much as it used to.

He recalls earlier that day when Leonard had asked for the first time how he was fairing being in a relationship with Penny.

"_So um…how do you like it? You know, being with Penny?"_

_He thinks of the three hours he'd spent massaging her scalp as they talked of superpowers and a new Penny Blossom line. _

"_Awesome," he murmurs. _

_Leonard can't ever remember this being part of his friend's vocab. "What?"_

"_It's the superpower Penny believes she already has. The power of being 'awesome'. I believe the colloquial justly describes our current relationship, despite its obvious inappropriateness in regard to superpowers." _

Later, as the Doctor fades out of Rose's universe, Penny's hand creeps down into Sheldon's lap and grasps his fingers tight.

"Would you risk it?" she whispers with a sniff.

"What?"

"Two universes collapsing. To pull yourself into my world."

"I wouldn't fret if I were you," he tells her. "You'd be back in two years."

She smacks _his_ arm this time. "That's not very romantic, sweetie."

"If you'd let me continue, I was _going_ to say that unlike the Doctor, I would not leave you in the parallel world with my human counterpart."

"When does that happen?!"

He gives her hand a squeeze. "We'll watch season four tomorrow."

_***_

_Love, love will keep us together_

_Think of me babe whenever_

_Some sweet talking girl comes along singing her song_

_Don't mess around_

_You just gotta be strong_

Though Penny is singing with gusto, her heart is not in the song. This is because she knows beyond a doubt that the words do not apply here. Not to Sheldon, who just last week almost received the phone number of a woman at the supermarket without realizing its significance. How could he possibly look at anyone else when he never takes his eyes off her? It's humbling, the quiet intensity he focuses on her. Long ago she'd felt like a science experiment around him; now she's no longer the experiment but the conclusive evidence that the heart is more important than the head. No, infidelity is not her worry. The first line of the song reassures her every time they sing it. She watches Sheldon playing the bass with concentration and wraps her arms around him from behind, deciding he's not having nearly enough fun. She shouts the lyrics against his ear, grinning as his blank facade slips and he misses a few notes.

"Penny," he complains.

She holds the mike to his mouth and commands that he sing.

"Penny!" he shouts, because she's standing in front of the screen and he can't see.

_Young and beautiful_

_Someday your looks will be gone_

_When the others turn you off_

_Who'll be turning you on?_

"Sing!" she replies, "I will!"

He rolls his eyes but leans into the mike nonetheless. "I will!"

"I will!"

By the end of the song he's abandoned any hope of playing the bass properly and instead provides Penny with back up vocals.

"…because quite frankly you needed the help," he says, only half joking.

All in all, they don't do too well on the song. The other guys are too distracted by the sight before them to play properly. They can count on one finger the number of times Sheldon has lost at Rock Band. Yet here he is, throwing lyrics around with abandon as Penny hangs off him, holding the mike to their mouths. In between words she's kissing his cheek and laughing.

They're losing the game, but both would agree that right now everything else is an epic _win._

***

Penny knows the drill now. Sheldon lets her share his seat on the couch, provided she only talks when the characters aren't and makes the cereal just the way he likes it. He's worried about the little amounts of fibre he's been digesting lately. With Penny around it's almost always a good day, and so he constantly feels the need to choose from the low fibre end. His heart might be feeling all well and good but the rest of his body is suffering for it. Penny kisses his cheek as she saunters into the kitchen and hollers a hello in the direction of Leonard's bedroom.

"I do wish you could appreciate the benefits of starting _every_ day this early," Sheldon calls from the couch. Penny is still very much of the opinion that it's insanity to wake before 11am if she doesn't have to work.

"Oh sweetie, you _know_ I would not be making you cereal at this hour on a Saturday," she replies, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What do you want?" she asks, pretending she doesn't already know.

"Honey Puffs please," he tells her, unable to get comfortable on his seat without her weight balancing on his lap.

What he doesn't tell her is sometimes the milk to cereal ratio is off.

***

_He's going to freak out_.

Penny paces her apartment restlessly, flicking from the fridge to the TV and to the dirty dishes in the sink. She's a little bitter that this moment is making her feel the wrong kind of nerves when she should be celebrating.

"It's my first _paid_ acting job," she murmurs the words tentatively but try as she might they won't turn into something positive. They sound like a defence strategy instead of a boon. "You can't be angry; I'm going to do this no matter what," she tells thin air in preparation.

She has landed the part of a troubled girlfriend in a crime show. It's only one episode, but she'll be paid enough for this week's rent and she's going to be on TV, for God's sake. So why is she nervous?  
She's got to tell Sheldon she's doing a sex scene.

The irony is acknowledged but _not_ appreciated – the first time she's recognised for her acting skills is when she's in bed. Apparently being a Big Ol' Five is more helpful in TV land than reality. To be fair, she hadn't known the details before she'd arrived for the audition, and how was she supposed to turn this down? It's the beginning of her dream job, what she's always wanted. Sheldon can't argue with that.

Whatever.

Sheldon never _stops_ until he gets his point across.

Knock knock knock.

"Penny."

Speak of the devil. She berates herself for thinking of him in such a way and opens the door before he can knock again. His hand hangs in mid air, a smile and a frown grappling for position on his face. He doesn't like it when she interrupts his pattern, but she's too anxious to care. "You requested my company?" he asks as she hastily gestures him inside, standing awkwardly as she places a clumsy, half hearted kiss on his cheek.

_Gently_, Penny tells herself. _Tell him gently._

"I'm doing a sex scene."

_How was that __**gentle**_? Penny winces at the callous words. Too late now, she can't call them back safe into her mouth.

Sheldon looks around the apartment, startled. "You – you wish to _film_ our ministrations in the bedroom?"

She almost laughs as they settle into their seats. Well, Sheldon sinks into his chair and Penny sits down a second before getting up to pace again.

"No sweetie," she replies, "Sorry I blurted it like that. I meant I got the part of this woman in _Criminal Minds_! Isn't that great?"

He smiles uncertainly. "Congratulations, Penny. I know it must mean a lot to you. Now what is it you meant by your former statement?"

She steels herself. "I'll be playing the girlfriend of the murderer…so I'll be filming a sex scene with him."

Sheldon blinks. She can almost see the calculations running through his mind:

Worried Penny + girlfriend part = something he's going to be mad about.

"Oh," he draws out the word when he comes up with the result, "You're feeling apprehensive because you imagine I'm going to be irate and jealous."

This time Penny blinks. "Well…aren't you?"

He gets up from his seat to still her restless movements. Not only are they unnecessary but they're making him slightly dizzy. His hands smooth over her arms: a caress, a reassurance. "Penny, as you are well aware I take my television programs very seriously. However, that is not to say that I do not understand when fiction is simply that – fiction. You have finally been acknowledged as an actress worth being paid for your talents. Do you honestly feel I would stand in the way of your career opportunity?"

It never ceases to amaze her, the way he makes her simultaneously want to kiss him and kick him the gonads. She purses her lips. "So you don't care if I sleep with some other guy?"

He balks. "Did I not explain myself adequately?"

Her arms fall out of his grasp; she folds them around herself. "Seriously? If I went off to do some raunchy shoot with a man I didn't know you wouldn't even bat an eyelid? I'm _your_ girlfriend, Sheldon. You do realise that, don't you?"

His arms hang in the air, expressing his exasperation. "I don't understand why you're arguing with me. I was under the impression you required my support."

"I do! But I thought you cared enough about me to feel even a _bit_ jealous about this." She turns her back to him, frustrated and guilty because she's yelling and he doesn't even understand why. "Or maybe you _are_ a robot," she mutters.

"A ro – Penny, have you not listened to any of my lectures about artificial intelligence?" he asks testily, "Robots are not built with the capacity to love. Well, unless you consider the 'Ghosts in the Machine' theory from _I, Robot_ but since I am not a robot and more specifically not a protocol-rejecting NS-5, the notion hardly applies here."

"Sheldon, I swear to god...why are you talking about robots right now?"

He quietens, having been quick to be riled by her incessant need to argue. "I'm saying I can't possibly be a robot," he mumbles. "…because despite prior scientific knowledge that should circumvent any happenstance to the contrary, I seem to have succumbed to the emotion known as love."

Penny stares blankly at him. "I'm sorry all I heard was lov–" she clasps a hand to her mouth. Sheldon's eyes dart from the floor to her face and back again. A blush colours his cheeks.

There is a moment when Penny realises this is their first fight – not a disagreement over what to watch, or who ate some of his cashew chicken – but a real argument, the kind that couples have when a new element is finally introduced into a budding relationship. It's the aspect that makes the least amount of sense: they fight because they care.

"You love me," Penny clarifies. "Is that right?"

Sheldon rolls his eyes. "Must I reiterate again?"

She's grinning mischievously now, all negative thoughts gone. "Oh, I think you should."

His agitated sigh is not quite real enough. He's no actor. "I have no qualms about you participating in the fictitious reproduction of intercourse because I do not doubt your fidelity. I'm aware of your feelings for me and that any other possible reproductions during your career will be just as meaningless." She waits for him say it. "I trust you because I – I love you, Penny. Are you satisfied?"

"Very." Her bitterness dissolves like morning dew. There is a light warming her from the inside out, the kindling having burst into flames at his revelation. She could just about float right through the ceiling yet she also feels strangely secure and safe, wrapped in the cocoon of his words like an embrace. However, before she can relay any of these feelings to Sheldon, he continues.

"In addition, I'm revealing this to you so you'll bear it in mind when I explain what happened to me yesterday at the barber shop."

Her fire peters out slightly, retreating like a puppy anticipating a box around the ears. "What happened?"

"Well, it was much like the incident at the supermarket. A woman initiated a conversation with me whilst we were waiting in the salon. She commented in a rather conspiratorial way on the amount of time we'd been waiting; I pointed out it was relative to the number of customers being served and that if Leonard had driven me there earlier like I'd requested I wouldn't still have been standing there." His eyes search hers for a sign of what she's thinking but they reveal nothing. They are blank, waiting, apprehensive.

"She then stated that she was glad I'd been made to wait, as it left me in her company – which is quite selfish if you ask me, wishing for someone to run late just so that you'll have company –"

"Sheldon, get to the point. What happened then?"

His voice starts to raise an octave, describing his bewilderment. "We discussed our plans for the remainder of the day and then for some inexplicable reason she assumed I was sexually available and inferred that she was too!"

Penny frowns. Well, if he sounds so shocked about it he probably hasn't done anything horrific. "Didn't you tell her about me?"

He lowers his head, sheepish again. "I was forced to, eventually, but you know I don't enjoy boasting our union, Penny."

"Why _is_ that?"

"_I _know you're mine. I fail to see why anyone else needs to be informed."

She shakes her head at him. His sweetness is often coated in crazy; sometimes it gets hard to dig through and find it. "Well they should if they're about to ask you on a date!"

"I hardly think she was trying to instigate a date," Sheldon disagrees. "Apart from informing me that she had very little plans for the evening, she told me about her recent divorce. I'm given to understand that new divorcees don't immediately go looking for relationships and that they have very little money. My theory is that she may have been a prostitute."

Penny bites her lip, trying not to laugh. "Did she ask for money, sweetie?"

"Well, not exactly. I turned down her offer before she had the chance."

"Then she probably just thought you were cute. I don't think she was a hooker."

Sheldon is more baffled by the former suggestion than the latter that suggests he's wrong. "_Cute_?" he repeats the word as if it doesn't quite fit in his mouth. "Why would she find me physically attractive?"

Penny makes a point of looking him up and down. "Oh, I don't know," she drawls, making a beeline for his arms, "Maybe it's that tough guy cut on your nose; chicks love scars." She swings in his embrace, grinning up at him. His hands come round her back and draw her closer. She places a kiss on his scar, as if she believes that affection can heal any wound.

"Or maybe it's that vocabulary," she continues, turning her mouth up to his. She can_ taste_ the intelligence on his lips, and god that turns her on. "_Or_ maybe she thought you were cute because you just plain _are_."

"I doubt most women find me desirable, Penny," Sheldon replies huskily.

"Not all women," she admits, "But I do. Because –" she falls still in his arms, pressing tight against his body. The words would cheapen it, somehow. They've been used so many times by everyone else that it would feel like she's just recycling. When Sheldon says it he makes her believe it's a phrase never been uttered before. He knows no other words to describe his feelings because he's never had to. They had come new and untainted from his lips. But how can she put into words the way her skin itches when he touches her, the way she secretly melts listening to the song that is his techno-babble? So she kisses him. Standing on her toes, her palms flat against his chest, Penny tilts her lips to his and lets Sheldon know she loves him without ever saying the words.

Sheldon closes his eyes and delves his tongue into her mouth, imagining he can feel the shape of her _I love you_ on his palate. Despite his paranoia when it comes to hygiene, he's the one who opts for the couch. The bedroom is too far away, definitely not a viable option. He turns in Penny's embrace and falls to the sofa, clutching her to him without ever drawing his mouth away. He feels her legs straddling his lap and clasps her hips with his fingers, not gripping hard, just resting them there. This is not an experiment to be concluded; a race to be run; a hasty gesture of affectionate passion. This is making love, not sex, and by god they're going to take their time. The kissing is languid. Their movements are measured but firm, as if it isn't speed that matters rather the strength with which they move each other. Eventually his hands slide under her top, pushing the material toward the heavens until it's flung to the floor. Her skin practically hisses at the contact and she presses herself more firmly into his lap, dragging his shirts over his head. Their bare chests meet as their mouths join again, muscle scraping firm against muscle, tongue dancing with tongue.

Just as metal's plasticity increases at extreme temperatures, Sheldon and Penny become less individuals and more one person as they melt into each other, caving under the heat that's raised within their own bodies. The process of melding is complete when their hands tangle together, slipping off Penny's shorts and dragging down the zip of Sheldon's pants. He fills her in one smooth thrust, eliciting a gasp from both of them. As fluid as their movements are, the transition from feeling empty to being filled will never cease to make Penny moan with satisfaction. Sheldon's left hand wraps around her back, bringing her closer, while his other hand grips her hip. She settles her arms around his neck, threading her fingers into his hair, and they stop.

Their foreheads press together and their eyes close, their mouths are slightly parted – it creates a mirror effect between man and woman, scientist and actress, logical thinker and wishful thinker. _See_, their positioning says. _We're not so different._

Penny moves first – she whispers her lips over the line of his jaw, feeling Sheldon's sigh against her neck. He unfreezes at last and starts to rock them, his pace excruciatingly slow enough to make her whimper. Before, he would have stopped, asking if she were okay but he knows now the difference between a whimper of pain and that of wanting more. He speeds up in increments, creating a friction that has them both boiling within seconds. Penny has her face tucked into the crook of his neck; all he has to do is turn his head 3 degrees and the scent of her shampoo fills his nostrils. He analyses the smell – one part coconut, two parts kiwifruit. The image of her applying the hair product in the shower flashes through his mind, and he bucks involuntarily against her.

"Sheldon!" Penny squeaks, panting though they've barely started.

"Penny," he murmurs into her hair, and grips her hips as he does it again. And again, again, until the rhythm has them groaning. Penny has one hand fisted into his hair and the other gripped tightly around the back of the couch as she grinds down onto him, her entire body singing. He's holding her so tight she can barely breathe and before he can stop himself, he bites into her shoulder. Her shriek is of pain but he can detect the stronger tone of approval behind it, and so does not feel too guilty about the animalistic urge.

Nevertheless he licks the sting away, suddenly hit with the thought that the old Sheldon would not in a million years apply his tongue to anything that wasn't approved food. Never mind the skin of a woman. He also knows that the old Sheldon could never have been as happy as the man he is now. He retracts his tongue and kisses her shoulder instead, thrusting harder, overcome. He drags his lips along her collarbone, her neck, ear…counting how many kisses it takes him to reach her mouth.

"Sixteen," he whispers.

"Hmm?" Penny mumbles as they draw apart.

"Never mind," he replies and captures her lips again. He reaches a place deep inside her and she bites down hard on his bottom lip. He gasps, ripping his lips away at the taste of blood.

"Sorry," she says, her voice a husk of ecstasy. She wants to say that at least his lip will match the scar on his nose, but coherent words are beyond her now. She lets go of the sofa to cup his cheeks and tenderly run her tongue along his lip, kissing the pain away. When she pulls back her mouth is stained faintly red with his blood.

The site is arousing beyond all sense: Sheldon beings to thrust with increasing speed, massaging her skin and panting against her ear. Penny can do nothing but hold on. She's caught up in the silky smoke of an imminent climax, unable to draw breath with the force of her shudders. She finds his mouth and melds her own to it, letting Sheldon swallow her screams as she shivers against him. Sheldon follows soon after, freezing up with a groan that starts somewhere deep inside and flies free from his throat. He gulps for air, breathing in her scent as she sits panting and trembling against him. Tentatively his hands fall away from Penny's skin and she rolls off of him, laying her head against his shoulder. It takes an eternity for the silence to be broken by more than just sighs and pants, the punctuation of lovers.

"We're…on the…" Sheldon gives up on the observation, instead switching his gaze from the door to the bedroom and back to Penny. She smiles and gets shakily to her feet, padding quietly to her room. They slip seamlessly under the covers as if that's where they'd started, lying on their sides to face each other.

His hand comes to rest next to hers; all she can see is his finger hovering millimetres away, his face a blur in the background. Sheldon finds his voice.

"If I stroke your thumb in this circular motion," he says, "My oxytocin levels increase phenomenally, my heart undergoes severe palpitations and my chest feels so constricted I can barely take a breath. In all likelihood, the consequence of sharing contact with you is that I'll go into cardiac arrest or pass out from asphyxiation."

Before she can plead for an explanation, he concludes by pressing the back of his hand to her cheek and closing his eyes.

"The odds just doubled," he breathes out shakily. "Essentially, it means you're close to killing me with every touch."

The world grinds to a halt.

He will certainly disagree about such a geological impossibility if she mentions this, so she takes a breath to steady it on her own.

"That may be the sweetest, corniest thing I've ever heard," Penny whispers.

"I agree there are some 'corn' factors, but the statement still stands."

Penny laughs. "Wait until I kiss you then," she murmurs.

This time, _he_ would argue that the world could stop spinning.


	7. Chapter 7

_The next time, they're killing each other. _

When Penny was eight, she was given a porcelain doll for her birthday. Growing up on a farm where time was money, money wasn't wasted and not being the boy her father had wanted was a waste, such a thing as a pretty little toy was something of a rarity. The clothes were made of fine silk, the blonde hair of threads so soft she'd thought each one must have been plucked from a princess's head. Penny named the doll Annie and treated her like she was the most precious thing in the world. She'd thrown tea parties with her, taken her to pat the newborn calves, to play at the monthly barn dance. She'd taken the utmost care in brushing out the fine strands of hair each night before tucking her safely into shoebox bed and crawling into her own. She'd had Annie for all of two months. Then one morning she was late for school and left the doll on her bedside table, the door open in her haste to run for the bus. She'd always been so careful of keeping it closed because the family dog had been a puppy at the time, chewing everything in sight and knocking down things that weren't nailed to the floor.

Penny came home from school that day to find her bedroom door wide open, her room a massacre. Her bedside table lay dejectedly on the carpet, her pillow chewed into downy pieces. Amidst the mess was a crushed shoebox, not so much a bed as a coffin for the shattered remains of Annie that sat inside. Her delicate face was splintered, her chest caving in. Penny half expected to see the doll's heart, lifeless, inside. She'd cradled the doll for two hours on the floor, crying over the shards, knowing she'd never have another Annie again. The point is, at an early age Penny had learnt that not all things were in her control.

That something so dear and precious can not go unbroken for long.

***

When Sheldon was five, his parents decided to grant his request and send him to Space Camp. 'Too young', they'd said at first, until he proved to them that his maturity and intellect far surpassed those who would be attending the camp. At least he _thought_ he was going. He'd been begging to go for the past three months. It wasn't so much that he believed the programs to be an enjoyable experience, more that he wanted to find out just what equipment they used to simulate shuttles and Multi-Axis trainers, as he was yet to successfully recreate his own at home. He packed a day in advance, early enough to allow him free time the day before but not leaving his clothes folded up for too long, causing creases. He sat poised for action in his car seat the entire way there, gripping tightly his notebook, ready to jot down the machinery's secrets.

The ride was a suspiciously short one, lasting only half an hour. He knew something was wrong when they turned in at the driveway of a ranch, not the airport where they were meant to be going. He'd been duped. Instead of sending Sheldon away to Space Camp, his parents thought that he was not developing well socially and so tricked him into attending the Jolly Ranchers' camp for the socially awkward. Boys incapable of making friends or who just didn't want them. Which of course, meant Sheldon. He'd stood at the front gate with the dusty Texas wind blowing into his eyes, still clutching his notebook, and watched his parents drive away for the week.

It was then he learned the meaning of 'too good to be true'.

***

She turns up at his office in tears.

He's so involved in his whiteboard equations that at first he doesn't notice her presence. When she sobs loudly he turns around, startled both by her sudden appearance and her emotional state. Penny throws herself into Sheldon's arms, knocking the open textbook and marker from his hands. This makes him twitch; he is so close to proving Michio Kaku's 'Physics of the Impossible' theory correct that he simply cannot afford this distraction. He might very well be on the verge of discovering a way to create force fields within their lifetime. He knows she's upset – he's not heartless, just very busy.

"Penny," he says into the top of her hair, "You're standing on my text –"

"I'm such a _loser_!" she cries, her fingers gripping his shirt so tight he's afraid the seams will rip. Her face is pressed into his chest; he worries about mascara stains.

"By what reckoning?" he asks.

"I'll tell you by what freakin' reckoning!" she exclaims bitterly. Her words are muffled. "I blew my audition this morning, the one I had to cancel a shift at work for; all my friends have new cars while I'm still paying off the repairman for mine; my laptop won't work and when my dad called yesterday to see how I was going I had to ask him for this week's rent so I don't get evicted!"

He smooths his hand over her back in circles, hoping this physical contact will merit no verbal response.

"I'm never going to get anywhere," she continues dejectedly, and he wonders briefly what she wants to get away _from_. "Maybe I should just give up and become a full time waitress."

When he doesn't answer, she pulls her head away from the safety of his arms to look up at him. He's staring intensely at the whiteboard, his mouth forming the words he's itching to write down, afraid of forgetting them while standing here. Is it too much to ask for one moment of his time? "Sheldon? Are you even listening?"

It's an effort to drag his eyes away from the board, she can tell by the way the corner of his mouth twitches down.

"Penny, I love you and I support anything you decide to do. You are aware of that, are you not?"

Since when had those words become simply something to fall back on when he had no other answer? Where has the meaning they'd first held gone?

"I know," she replies, with the distant thought that they just aren't trying hard enough anymore.

If Sheldon can't help her through a day as horrible as this, what's the point?

***

(this part was inspired by number 25 and 24 of life_coveter's 'The Epic Rationalisation List and Picspam, because I saw the expression on their faces during the 'make up' kind of scenes in the Panty Piñata Polarisation and it brought forth a fight/make up scenario in my head.

.)

"…been looking at a new mixed quark-hadron phase of matter at high baryon and isospin density. It promises to live up to some rather exotic expectations."

The laundry room is silent. _Strange_, Sheldon thinks, given it's occupied by two people. One of whom should be adding to this conversation. He turns from the folding table to see Penny mindlessly throwing her tops into a washing machine. He winces as she mixes the whites with the blacks. It's apparent she still hasn't taken his diagram of proper washing procedure seriously.

"Penny? Don't you find it interesting?"

She swings round to face him, her expression unusually blank. She's been in an unresponsive mood all morning, he finally notes. "What's interesting?"

"My research regarding the equation of the state of nuclear matter."

He can almost hear the words whistling through one ear and out the other.

Her smile is false when she nods. "Of course sweetie," she replies, with a little too much bite to the last word. She says it that way when she's agitated. He _hates_ that enunciation.

Sheldon turns back to folding his freshly cleaned pants but is unable to continue enjoying the warm static that tickles his arm hair. He looks again at the washers.

"Penny –"

She's gone. He frowns at the neglected clothes basket.

"I'm right here."

He nearly jumps out of his skin as she taps his shoulder from behind. There's a little satisfied smirk on her lips as he calms himself down.

"I _told_ you not to do that," he grumbles.

"I know. I wasn't listening." There's too much emphasis on the latter sentence for it to go unnoticed. He sets his pants down with a reluctant sigh and faces her. She's got her hands on her hips and a defiant expression in her eyes, as if she's been dying for him to ask what her problem is.

"It's come to my attention that you're in an uncooperative mood, Penny. Would you care to explain?"

The last word is barely out of his mouth before she starts shouting, gesturing with her hands and roughly folding the underwear she's already washed.

"I need you to talk to me," she pleads, taking her frustration out on the collection of pink bras and polka dot panties. They're savagely shaken out and then folded in half, thrown into the basket. Is it really appropriate to be brandishing her underwear around whilst talking about this? "Tell me something I'm interested in! Please!"

"I don't understand."

"We never have conversations that both of us are interested in. We're constantly meeting halfway!" she finishes folding and stalks the length of the room, a tigress waiting to pounce.

"That's not entirely true," he replies carefully, "I enjoyed the conversation we had last week about crop circles on your old farm." In fact that discussion had involved her underwear as well.

"_Are you certain they were crop circles and not just imprints left in the grass by tractors? And honestly Penny, why do you even bother wearing such pointless articles of clothing?" he asks, being more a hindrance than a help. She's trying to put away her clean washing but he keeps getting in the way, plucking at her underwear, making jibes. "They can hardly be called underwear if they contain no support for the buttocks." _

_Penny grimaces, holding her hand out for the g string he's holding. "Oh, sweetie, don't say buttocks." She runs the underwear through her hands thoughtfully. "So you really don't see the point in lingerie?" she adds. He shakes his head. _

_Penny grins mischievously and without a word takes off her shirt._

"_What are you –" he loses his train of thought immediately. She's wearing a dark red bra with black lacing that fits to her chest perfectly. Without coherent thought his hands reach out to trail over the fabric – rough and silken at the same time – and then his hand wanders further onto her skin. Penny grins. _

"_See the point now?" she asks. _

_He nods, and she laughs and pulls him to her. _

If she remembers too, she doesn't let on. "You should be able to ask me how my day was without me having to ask if you're feeling okay!"

"I have asked you on numerous occasions about the events of your day," he points out evenly, wondering how long she's been harbouring these thoughts for.

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"That neither of us is actually interested in the answers!" she stops pacing and glares at him exasperatedly. Even their arguing has lost its shine. They used to have such good, passionate disagreements, she remembers. They'd hurl words until the other could see their point clearly, until _something_ got through. Now though, whenever she's frustrated, Sheldon just stands there contritely, his voice low and his mind most likely on physics. "I know I said it didn't matter what you say, because I just like listening. But I can't do it _all _the time. The romance loses its novelty. I can't live on feelings anymore. I need words and actual exchanges I can draw things from!"

"That's odd," he remarks, "Considering you live most of your life 'feeling'. It's all you ever talk about. 'I want this, I need that. I hate him, I love that'…you complain an awful lot about your emotions."

_Finally_, she thinks, _a reaction._

"At least I acknowledge them," she retorts, "I don't just pretend like I don't know what they are!"

"That's a false implication and you know it," he says firmly, because he's told her about his feelings more often than he's told his own mother.

It still doesn't feel good, even now that he's replying. She can put all the blame on Sheldon she wants but it won't bury the truth – this is a fight, one of many, and no matter who says what it's still scraping away layers of their relationship until the bare bones are left: the clashing personalities they'd first met with. She's too strung out to say anymore. With a groan that's partly sorrow but mostly frustration she shoves her washing away and stalks out of the laundry room, and he cleans up her mess like always.

Two hours later, when Penny has eaten a whole bar of chocolate and downed a glass of scotch, she gathers the courage to go mend things like she always does. She opens her door and nearly trips over the basket lying on the floor. It's all her washing, folded and tucked into the basket by order of size and colour. Her dark red and black bra is sitting on top of the pile, looking pointedly out of place. It's enough to jog her memory and with a sigh she brings the washing just inside the door, thinking of crop circles and lingerie.

Knock knock knock.

"Sheldon," she calls fiercely, because chances are he's sulking in his bedroom and won't hear. There are rhythmic footsteps from within, coming closer. She stands back, bracing herself. Sheldon opens the door very slowly; he's probably expecting her to be poised with a paint gun or a manicured fist aimed at him.

"If you've come to shout again –"

"–You want to know what my problem is, Sheldon?" she interrupts. She seems about to yell but the words come faintly, reluctantly, like they're too heavy to hold up. "I'm afraid of what's happening to us."

"So am I," he answers, surprising them both. Wordlessly he twitches his hands; for Sheldon it's a gesture equivalent to opening his arms wide to her. How can she stay mad when he folds her clothes even after she's yelled, when he only ever speaks with sincerity for her sake? They still love each other. It's just getting harder to remember that every day. She fits herself underneath his chin, her comfort spot, and tries to pretend that this is all that matters. That she can be comfortable in this spot and not need him to say a word.

***

The boys are planning their trip to the Arctic, animatedly discussing the rewards if they succeed as well as reluctantly planning for three months alone in a cold shack with Sheldon – Ipods, stress balls, a sharp knife. While they are only just starting to plan, Sheldon has already made copies of his itinerary and packing list and will hand them out later. For now, he makes the short trip across the hall, an excited spring in his step. He's close to grinning as he knocks on Penny's door.

"Sheldon," she knocks in return through the wood. The surprise brings the grin spilling onto his face. _I will miss this_, he thinks as she opens the door. If only he could know how true that thought will ring in just a few hours' time.

"I have some great news, Penny," he announces as she leans into the doorway with a smile.

"Is this some 'I'm taking you out for a luxurious dinner', news or a 'We've bought the new Star Trek Special Edition' kind of news?"

"Neither," he answers, ignoring the mix of disappointment and relief that flits across her face. "The National Science Foundation has accepted my submitted proposal to detect slow moving monopoles at the magnetic north pole. We're going to the Arctic Circle. If I'mthe one to detect them, I'll be known as the scientist who confirmed String Theory!"

Penny pulls a face, the one he's come to recognise as her sorting through his techno babble to pick out the words she understands.

"You're going…to the Arctic to look at poles?" she's quick to dismiss the unimportant part of that sentence. "You're going to the Arctic."

He nods.

"For how long?"

"The expedition will be for three months –"

"Starting from when?!" she yelps, as if he's just hit her.

"We – we leave in two weeks," he answers timidly.

"Two _weeks_? Sheldon!"

The urge to run to his room is strong. By now he can predict the coming tide of shouts after the first few ripples appear, and it fills him with a cold dread every time. "Is that not ample notice for my departure?"

"No, Sheldon, it's not _ample notice._"Penny turns sharp on her heel, like spinning on a dime, and returns to her apartment.

He's reluctant to follow but there's the smallest hint of something growing inside him, the notion that this is just not _fair. _Penny should not be making this about her, she should be throwing her arms up and squealing in the way she does when she's excited. 

"Is that the only reason you're upset?" he asks, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Because I didn't give you enough notice?"

She's kneading her fingers into a sofa cushion, almost like she's contemplating throwing it at him. "You never said anything to me," she answers, "You could have mentioned it at least once."

"I did! Every week I mentioned some aspect of my plans."

"You know I don't understand any of that, you should have just said 'oh, by the way, it means I'll be going away for three months!"

He's quiet, for once wishing he could shrink down into nothing. "I was too busy contemplating the research opportunities, I…"

"Exactly," she says curtly, shoving the cushion onto the couch. "You didn't think of me, because science always comes first."

"It comes first for this precise reason!" he shouts suddenly, "Physics does not shout for the most insignificant reasons; it doesn't make me so irate –"

"I get the point," Penny cuts him off. "Once again you'd prefer to be a robot, instead of feeling anything."

"You make me feel too _much_!" he hisses. The truth passes through his mouth like a balloon: translucent, big enough to get caught in his throat on the way. "Can you honestly blame me?"

"Yes! There are a lot of things I can blame on you, Sheldon!"

"I have been working towards this for months, Penny! I thought that this would merit some understanding from you, of all people!"

"Why me?"

"You spend every waking moment with your head in the clouds! You're constantly fantasizing about a more productive job! Well _this_ is mine! This is what I have wanted!"

"I thought you wanted me," she says in a small voice.

"Not if it means I have to dismiss any plans for success!"  
He's never been one to throw out his thoughts with abandon. Yet this rare occasion might have possibly just cost him everything.

"I didn't mean that," he says evenly, trying to steady his breathing.

It's no good; he may as well have slapped her. Penny shakes her head mutely and points to the door. There's steel in her eyes that's never been there before. It frightens him.

"If you force me to leave, you will regret it," he tells her. He's pleading the best way he knows how, but she's too blown away to see it.

"Out," she spits the word like its poison.

He has given up so much of who he used to be. Sometimes it makes him sad, but all he has to do is look at Penny and he can look back at the old Sheldon Cooper and laugh at the lonely, small minded fool. He doesn't know if he feels that way at this moment. The old Sheldon Cooper would not be subjected to this kind of devastation.

"I had plans!" he shouts suddenly, because he can't let this go. "From the age of eight I have had my entire life planned out, and then you attached yourself to me with your financial problems and your bottomless dreams and made a mess of it!"

She's pretty sure he's just called her a poor, hopeless parasite. "FYI: I had plans too, you know, Sheldon. I wanted to be an actress. Being paid minimum wage to serve food was not part of my plan! Falling for you wasn't part of it either, so I guess I failed on all counts!"

"Failure?" he blinks, reprimanded. "You consider our relationship a failure?"

"Look at us," she replies, gesturing at the space between them.

He sees every inch like another factor on a list of their demise. His eyes are now the ones hard with steel; they could drill holes right through her. He already has.

"Fine," he bites out, inhaling a breath until he thinks better of continuing the argument. "Very well." He turns on his heel just as sharply as she'd done and closes the door behind him without making a sound. He might as well have slammed it; the sound echoes through their hearts loud enough. In the empty hall, Sheldon deflates. The sudden silence allows him to hear the blood pounding in his ears, like the drumbeat of the desperate. He looks down at his hands: they're trembling; he clenches them tight and paces the distance between their doors a few times, letting the anger drain away. The terrible thing is there's not an awful lot left once the rage has passed. The hall is dim lighted; no matter which direction he turns he can't imagine life on the other side of the doors.

Love is blind; blinded by rage.

The phrases really don't mean anything, because now that he's taken away these emotions he's still unable to see anything but black.

***

She can't believe _he_ was the one to storm off.

Yes, she'd told him to leave…but this was not Sheldon following her orders. This had been Sheldon leaving because the air was so thick with anger that there wasn't room for both of them. Her chest is heaving, aching; she holds a hand to her heart and can feel it tearing at the seams.

_I thought you wanted me. _

_Not if it means I have to dismiss any plans for success. _

_Not if…_

_No._

He doesn't…well, good. She doesn't need him either. Who needs to spend an entire day hunting down the very last copy of a rare 1962_ Hawkman_ comic for his birthday? Who needs to read Christopher Reeves' biography for the story and not just the pictures? Why should she ever want to enter a Halo tournament under the hopeful name of _Queen Penelope Cooper _again? Penny trembles, hugging herself, because she can't stop feeling so incredibly cold. She can't move because that would mean forgetting him long enough to let her brain work on moving her legs. She looks around the apartment, at the photos of them placed strategically so that the moment anyone came inside they would see that she belonged to someone. She reaches down to pick up a framed photo of them at last year's Comic Con and crushes the faces beneath her finger. Sheldon's smile splinters under the glass, as if that's all his affection had been all along – transparent, ready to break under the smallest amount of pressure.

She now faces the dilemma of needing a friend to talk to…but that means Leonard. Leonard is Sheldon's best friend, and even if he hasn't already taken Sheldon's side, they still share the apartment. She can't possibly go over there, nor can she risk calling in case _he_ answers. She contemplates the numbers in her phone's contact list, but she doesn't have that many close friends, only the boys and Nebraska high school girlfriends that probably don't have the time for her anyway. She dare not call home, in case her father answers and she has to tell him she's failed yet _again. _Penny gasps as her hand slips free of the frame and a shard of glass pinches her finger. The cut, red as regret, brings the taste of Sheldon's blood to her mouth –

_When she pulls back her mouth is stained faintly red with his blood – _

She's not surprised to find she can no longer stand.

Just when the world between her and the guys has reached a point of tentative peace, it is ripped out from under their feet, with even more casualties than before.

She's been kidding herself, thinking she could step out onto such a precipice and not constantly be in danger of falling.

***

The next morning Leonard is not shocked to find Sheldon huddled over a bowl of cereal, the contents of which have obviously come from the opened box of Big Bran left sitting on the counter.

"Big Bran?" he enquires tentatively, following the way Sheldon's shoulders slump, his whole body nearly doubled over as if in pain.

"In case you suddenly lost the ability to hear last night, Penny and I had a disagreement," he answers. His eyes remain riveted to the TV. "I failed to have a productive REM cycle as a result. And frankly, I don't deserve Honey Puffs."

Leonard had heard. He'd been standing at the kitchen counter in plain view as Sheldon had come inside, so out of sorts that he hadn't even seen his friend standing there with 'Are you okay?' waiting to leave his mouth.

"You didn't sleep…yet you're still up at 6am watching Doctor Who?"

He gives him a look of contempt. "That barely merits a response, Leonard."

"I know, I wasn't thinking."

"Yes, well that makes two of us, apparently," he replies dryly, spooning cereal into his mouth but not at all looking like he is enjoying it.

"Penny's not happy with us leaving?" Leonard asks, taking a seat next to his friend.

"Penny is not happy with a lot of things, it seems. The majority of which revolve around me."

He wants to pat Sheldon's back but is reluctant. He's never been through this with Sheldon, is not sure what his friend's reaction to the touch would be. There's no protocol for this situation, no standard responses…he's just blindly feeling his way around their friendship. "What did she say?"

"She's of the opinion that my priorities are askew and that our relationship is a failure. To be honest," his mouth turns down at the last word, "Our thoughts are overlapping on the latter matter, if nothing else."

Leonard watches as Sheldon's fingers tighten around the rim of the bowl before setting it on the table, barely eaten, and curls further into himself. The Doctor and Lady Christina go on, ignored. "You uh…you two broke up?"

Sheldon has not given much thought to the terminology. He's never understood how an intangible bond between two people can be physically severed. Now though, he understands too well. He closes his eyes, picturing them in her apartment last night, and hears shattering plates in his mind. Remembering the distance between he and Penny, the only word for that feeling is _broken. _

"Yes," he croaks, his voice dying. "Excuse me."

He moves away from the couch, heavy and sullen.

Leonard is worried now, as there's still twenty minutes of the show left. "But, Doc –"

"It's being Tivo'd," Sheldon calls, and retreats into his bedroom. "I must get ready for work."

But Leonard knows that his friend always gets his things ready for work the night before.

In his room, Sheldon shuffles dejectedly toward his DVD shelf, the one that holds his most prized Special Editions, Remastered movies and…_Dirty Dancing_. It's hidden in a _Star Trek_ case, an act of sacrilege in itself but he doesn't care at this point. He takes the disc out and slots it into the player, settling into bed with the blankets drawn around him. He watches, numb, recalling when Penny had first made him view it. He had not been able to appreciate the poor picture quality, the not quite first-rate acting, the lack of bonus features. But that didn't stop him from burning Penny's copy. It isn't the movie he loves so much; it's the memory of watching it with Penny, seeing her face light up every time Johnny returns for the last dance, ever the hero.

He hadn't planned on ever watching the burnt disc; he just liked to brush his fingers over it every now and then on his way to another movie – recalling the way Penny had curled tighter against him when Johnny's Penny was found crying in the kitchen. He'd wondered if she'd seen herself in the blonde's puffy red eyes – so much potential being shot down by one man after the other.

"_FYI: I had plans too you know!"_

He remembers them watching it only a few days ago, Penny unusually tense as she'd tucked herself tighter into his embrace. In light of their current confessions, he wonders briefly if even then she'd changed her opinion of him. If instead of seeing the caring, fiercely protective Johnny, she'd started to see him as the one who'd caused her torment, who held her back…Robbie.

Never in a million years would he have viewed the movie without her there to force him. That's how he knows his heart is broken.

The part has come when Swayze's voice plays over the image of Baby being left behind in a cloud of dust.

_  
Feel her breath on my face  
Her body close to me  
Can't look in her eyes  
She's out of my league  
Just a fool to believe  
I have anything she needs  
She's like the wind___

He's going to be late to work for the first time ever; he realises that he's left his cereal congealing on the coffee table and that Doctor Who isn't actually being recorded.

But none of these things hit him as hard as those lyrics, and that's when Sheldon Cooper starts to cry over his first break up.

***

Penny is just falling asleep when there's a knock on her door.

It's late at night but she doesn't care; she throws back her covers and makes a dash for the door. _It was all a dream_, she thinks, _He's coming to stay the night_. But deep down she knows that this is not Sheldon coming to give a belated kiss good night, because there has been only one knock. She opens the door to find Leonard, looking just as sleep-depraved as she feels. They don't say anything as he sits on her couch. Penny breathes a small sigh of relief because it's been three days and she'd been starting to worry that in forfeiting Sheldon she'd lost her other best friend as well. But no, here he is, tapping his foot and twiddling his thumbs nervously, just like it used to be. Eternally grateful, she sinks down next to him and wraps her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. Leonard has an arm around her shoulder. The silence around them is like taffy, stretched too thin and artificially sweet.

"How is he?" she asks in a whisper.

Leonard struggles for an answer that won't upset her further. How can he tell her that Sheldon has been perfectly normal after being late to work three days ago? That they've played Halo and gone to the Comic Book store and his roommate is the only one who doesn't notice the gaping empty space beside him, as if it had never been filled in the first place? He plays the blank card so well that Leonard finds it hard to tell whether he's really okay or has suddenly become a damn good actor.

"I don't know," he admits, "He's been at work a lot."

"Avoiding you?"

"Getting ready for the trip."

Her 'oh' sounds just like disappointment, in not so many syllables. "I hope he freezes to death when you guys go."

"I'm pretty sure Raj and Howard do. But you don't."

She pulls her face away from his neck. "No," she concedes, "I don't. But I wish I did. It would be easier. He's such a jerk and I'm _so _mad at him, but –"

"You still love him," he finishes tenderly, thinking of her outburst over Kurt. "I've heard it before."

Her arms fall away from his neck and she curls her hands in her lap. "Am I still welcome at 4A?" she asks quietly, wiping her damp eyes.

"Any day of the week," he assures her, patting her leg. "Without you around we'd probably forget what women even look like."

"Why are you so good to me, Leonard? I don't deserve you."

He shrugs and smiles sheepishly. "Hey, I loved you once too, you know."

Her hand creeps over to his, her palm warm over his fingers. It feels so good to hear that _somebody _cares about her that she doesn't think about what's going on. "You really did, didn't you?"

Leonard has seen this look on Penny's face one too many times before. Her eyes are clouded with poor judgement; she's leaning her body in towards him and despite all the times he's hated pushing her away, this time it comes easily.

"Don't," he tells her, barely moving his mouth. He leans away. "You'll regret it."

_If you force me to leave, you will regret it_.

Like a light has switched on in her brain, Penny starts at his words and gets up from the couch. "I'm sorry," she says quickly, "I wasn't –"

"I know. It's okay." Leonard gets up and heads for the door. "Get some sleep," he says gently, "For once, you actually look like you need it."

She doesn't see Leonard's short form disappearing through the doorway. She sees Sheldon's back clad in the cobalt blue of his shirt, shoulders squared with anger as he disappears into the hall. She watches the door until it swings shut, until she hears the footsteps fade.

Until she's certain that he's not coming back.

***

He checks his watch again, just in case.

It's Saturday, Laundry Night, and yes, there's still an hour and fifteen minutes until Penny wakes up. An hour an fifteen minutes to do his laundry and get out before she comes down to do hers. Because no doubt she'll want to do laundry during the day to avoid him. "Leonard, I'm going to –"

"– do the laundry, I know," Leonard calls from the kitchen. "It's not like you haven't been doing it every Saturday for the past five years."

He can't tell if Leonard's sarcasm is genuine, or if he's just doing it so he won't have to acknowledge that Sheldon's purposefully changed his routine just to avoid Penny. Whatever the reason, he scowls as expected and hauls the basket down the stairs.

It feels odd, loading his pre-separated clothes into the machine at this time. Every movement feels premature, unweighted, like his actions won't cause reactions because he's not supposed to be here at this time anyway. He finishes loading his socks and adds the washing powder, breathing in its watermelon scent. The smell sparks a memory:

_Salmon-pink fruit held up to his lips – her smile is contagious – there's juice dripping down his chin – she laughs and kisses it away – they don't __**stop**__ kissing – the bowl of watermelon is knocked off the couch – she arches into him – _

Sheldon slams the lid of the washer down and stabs at the Start button.

Just thinking about Penny makes him simultaneously aggravated and lost. His arms hang loose at his sides as he leans against the folding table and waits. There's nobody but himself, no sound but the gentle humming of someone else's tumble dryer. He frowns in disapproval of that. Can they not read the sign that clearly instructs anyone against leaving their washing unattended? As soon as he thinks it, the dryer grinds to a stop, the metal clicking with static. He twitches and tries not to look at the machine just sitting there, clothes being left to crinkle. _I'm not going to touch it_, he thinks to himself, _it's not my problem. _But what if when he's ready to leave, the owner still hasn't come back? What if someone with dishonourable intentions comes down and sees a dryer full of free clothes?

He has the dryer open and the shirts in a basket within seconds.

For the next twenty minutes he determinedly stands facing away from them, though he's itching to further organise the mystery clothes. But if the 'clean apartment' incident with Penny has taught him anything, it's that people generally don't like strangers going through their belongings. So he'll just have to settle for having taken the clothes out of the overheated dryer.

It's nearly ten thirty and Sheldon is done early, just placing the last of his pants into the basket when he hears footsteps thumping towards the room. It's quite possibly the owner of the abandoned clothes. 

"There's no need to rush," he calls, "I've taken care of – oh."

Penny runs through the door, freezing mid step as she sees him.

Immediately his eyes avert to the floor; his knuckles turn white, holding the table so firmly. It feels like she's ambushed him, like she's set this up on purpose just to unsettle him. At least that's what he assumes, but he won't look at her so he doesn't see the obvious surprise on her face.

"It's before eleven," he points out evenly, as if this slice of time should belong to him, as if they now must decide who gets custody of times, property and friendships.

"I – I know," Penny stammers, "I didn't want…" she drags her feet across the room to her basket of clothes. Clearly he still can't help himself when it comes to meddling with her washing.

"You were attempting to avoid interactions with me."

She half crosses her arms and shrugs. "Well why are _you _here so early then? Getting all your clothes ready for your stupid trip?"

There's the tic under his right eye.

"Your hostility is futile if you're trying to engage me in an argument," he says stiffly, "Since I no longer harbour any feelings – negative or positive – for you, and therefore have no interest in retaliating." Before she can reply he gathers his basket in his arms and races toward the exit. "I must go, I'm terribly busy," he throws over his shoulder and scurries up the stairs. It isn't until he reaches the top that he admits he's got nothing much to do today, that he still harbours _too many _feelings for her.

Maybe he's not so bad at lying after all.

***

On the second last night before the trip, Leonard finally manages to find Penny. She's been completely unreachable the past three days, no matter how many times he's called in at work or knocked on her door. He's just entered the lobby when she turns away from her mailbox and catches sight of him.

"Penny?" he juggles his take out bags into one hand and reaches out with the other, like he's going to grab her and keep her from disappearing. It hangs pointlessly in the air for a couple of seconds before he lets it drop.

"Oh, hey," she replies faintly, stopping just shy of the second step. She looks thinner, paler and more tired than usual. It's the thin part that worries him the most. Her eyes are cloudy and in danger of earning the adjective _sunken._

"I haven't seen you around," he hazards when she doesn't say anything else.

Her hand runs through her bedraggled hair. "Yeah, I've been working a lot…"

"I stopped in at the Cheesecake Factory yesterday and you weren't there."

The truth spills out of her. "Okay, so I haven't been working. I've just been hiding. Happy now?"

Leonard frowns as they ascend the stairs together. "No, not really. I've been worried about you. We've all been."

"Oh really?" she automatically thinks of Sheldon, sitting up night after night and worrying about her mental state. Somehow she can't picture it.

"Okay so Sheldon's been…well, Sheldon. He's not home, by the way. If you want to come over for dinner," he waves his food bags in front of her. "Thai night."

The thought of food is not that enticing, but Sheldonless company sounds good, strangely enough. She's tired of hurting. She nods. "Why isn't he here?" she asks, taking one of the bags from Leonard as they round the last corner to their floor.

"He's been spending a few late nights at the University. You know, packing the equipment he needs, installing lasers in his office in case people break in while he's away."

"Do you mean alarm system lasers or like 'ouch that red beam just cut my finger off' lasers?"

"Alarms, but I wouldn't be surprised if he'd gone for the latter." He chuckles, a sound so unlike Sheldon's breathy laugh.

Howard and Raj are already inside, dissecting a freshly finished game of _Star Wars _Monopoly.

"Ah, look what the geek dragged in," Howard says, "It's an absolute pleasure to see you again, Penny –"

"Howard –"

"It's okay Leonard," says Penny, helping him hand out the Thai. "As weird as it sounds, I have sort of missed this. Even you, Howard. I've noticed your scooter outside a lot this week. Are you guys all getting ready for the trip over here?"

"Not quite," Howard answers, "I'm in hiding. Mum hasn't stopped guilt-tripping me since she realised I'm not just going to Arkansas." He stabs his fork moodily into a noodle. "She thinks I'm not going to come back."

"You'd think she'd be celebrating," Penny remarks cheekily.

"Now _there's_ the Penny we know and love," Leonard comments.

"What about you Raj? You're over a lot too."

Raj nods dejectedly as Howard explains for him.

"His parents haven't stopped Skype calling to argue about him coming with us. It's easier for him to just leave his laptop behind and miss the calls than it is for him to ignore them while he's home."

"So you guys are all geared up to go now, huh?" Penny asks, sharing some rice with Leonard.

"Actually, we've been more stressed out about it then Shel…" Leonard trails off uncomfortably.

She clears her throat. "He's not worried about leaving anything behind then?" _Like me. _

"Oh, he's laid out emergency plans if he does forget something. They mostly involve sending me to retrieve it and then catching a later flight."

"Of course." She looks around the boys' apartment at the whiteboards, the memorabilia – facets that make up their lives and personalities. Three months without this? Sitting down to eat take out and listen to the boys arguing over who played the best Batman? She sighs.

"I'm going to miss you guys," she says quietly, interrupting their conversation. "I'm sorry I haven't been around lately. I thought that if we didn't spend so much time together I wouldn't be so sad to see you go. But instead it just felt like you'd left early, and I hadn't said goodbye."

The boys smile, and Penny allows a group hug for what is probably the first and only time. She fleetingly thinks that this isn't really a 'group' hug because there's one man missing, the pair of arms that she wants around her the most.

Meanwhile, in his office at Caltech, Sheldon sets a box of possessions on his desk. In the box are his awards, author-signed dissertations and his favourite books: a collection of valuable items to be stored at home, just in case anyone does break in. There's not much more room in the box, but he still has two items to choose between: a signed First Edition copy of _The Strangest Man: The Hidden Life of Paul Dirac, Quantum Genius _and a framed photo of Penny. He's conveniently 'forgotten' to deal with the photo these past two weeks, just leaving it face down on his desk. It's from the day they made chocolate cake. Well, he'd made the cake and Penny had stood there eating the batter when she thought he wasn't looking. Leonard had just invested in an XLR camera, and was going around snapping pictures with abandon. Penny had a chocolate batter moustache when the photo was taken, but nobody had said anything at the time.

"_Here," she says, giving it to him. "Take it to work. It might remind you that you have a gorgeous reason to come home at a not-ridiculous time of the night."_

"_Non-ridiculous," he corrects, slipping the photo into his pocket. "Or better yet, simply 'reasonable'." _

In the end, he takes the book. Because why should he want to keep safe something that no longer belongs to him? At least that's what everyone will be expecting of him. He brushes a thumb over Penny's cheek before putting the photo into his lockable draw. _This_, he concludes, is exactly why he prefers science fiction to the real world. In fantasyland, the hero always gets the girl. Good triumphs over evil. You don't get your heart so broken it's hard to remember who you'd been before the fact. Oh, Lord knows he's been trying to be the old Sheldon. But every move he makes feels wrong because she's not there to witness it. How can he just forget the way she sang her favourite song to him instead of telling him; how they'd spent an entire day in bed and didn't think once of the routine they'd been disrupting? He'd worked so hard at being someone a little better, for Penny's sake. Given the evidence, it would seem he'd failed. He sits in his chair and surveys the office he'd nearly forgotten at one point, so wrapped up in the new world of Penny and Sheldon as he was. He doesn't know what to feel, looking around at the room that has been the birth place of most of his theories. He reaches his fingers out to brush his desk, the wood smooth. It's like being welcomed home and then being told he has to stay for the rest of his life. Years ago that would not have scared him beyond belief.

Funny, he'd tried to change and ended up in the place he was meant for all along.

***

It feels like Pasadena is drowning.

Everywhere Penny drives, the rain seems to follow. The streets are being cleansed with the downpour, the road slippery under her tyres. Sheldon would never go out in weather like this and she feels a little rebellious, knowing he would disapprove of her driving in it.

Not that he can tell her what to do anymore.

Not that she ever listened anyway.

People huddle in doorways desperate to keep dry, but she drives with her windows open enough to let gusts of water in every now and then. They're ice cold drops that on any other night might have felt ticklish on her cheeks, but tonight they just feel like tears. _Good_, she thinks, _let the world cry __**for**__ me._ She's sick of crying. She's been a wreck as the days to their departure become less, avoiding any contact with Sheldon or the other boys, drowning in her own misery. She'd skipped work last Hamburger Tuesday but she's working this time, half hoping the boys turn up and half dreading what will happen if they do. Part of Penny doubts that Sheldon will show; even _he's_ not totally immune to the awkwardness and the pain that it would entail. But since their break up, she's started to worry that maybe all the progress they'd made together has just been a front; that it's _that_ easy to revert back to who you used to be.

After all, he's avoided her like the plague.

Penny's spent so much time developing Sheldon so she can be comfortable around him no matter what. To begin that process again, with another man? The thought exhausts her. It's not just that Sheldon's seen her without make up or clean clothes – he's seen her without hope, without a means to an end, when she'd had to shower at his place because she couldn't afford big water bills. He's not just been a witness to her bared, unprocessed body. He's seen the raw chaos that is her life. She slams on the brakes, nearly going through a red light – _damn rain is making it impossible to see – _and while waiting she thinks back to that afternoon, when she'd opened her laptop to find the Horse Head Nebula blooming across her screen. It had become her wallpaper when he'd surprised her with a picnic dinner at Singer Park, and spent the night murmuring the wonders of the universe into her shoulder as they'd lain on the blanket and looked at the stars. She'd replaced it with a picture of Johnny Depp, but the stern concentration in his eyes had mirrored Sheldon's look when he played Age of Conan. She'd then opted for Hugh Jackman but remembered that Sheldon had gotten jealous when she'd pointed out Wolverine's animalistic appeal. So she'd erased them all and left her screen blank, black as Sheldon's eyes when they'd made love, dark as the night sky on their first real date, black as the hole in her heart.

It smarts, the feeling that there are so many things in her apartment that are no longer relevant to her. She's been through break ups before. Penny knows by heart the Herculean tasks that are before her – throwing away everything he's given her; changing her Facebook status; investing in some hard liquor…not to mention holding back tears in his presence, inching around him to speak to Leonard, uncurling her bunched fists whenever he crosses her path. She almost feels sorry for Sheldon, knowing that he has no such mental list of steps for becoming single again. She _almost _feels like running back to him and saying this has all been a mistake, just a fight, and they can start again. It's like any level of Conan. It says Game Over, but the choice is always there for you to start from the beginning. Almost, that is, until she remembers the fire in his voice as he'd said he didn't want her. As she remembers the way he'd made her hate herself for twitching with impatience when he rattled on about Hadron-somethings and all she wanted to do was curl up and watch _So You Think You Can Dance_.

A lot of the time she wants him back, but it doesn't it take much to make her doubt that.

She pulls into the parking lot of The Cheesecake Factory, scanning for Leonard's car as she braves the rain and runs through the front doors. She can't see it, but that doesn't mean they're not here – the rain makes it hard to see anything properly. The restaurant is busy for a Tuesday night, mostly because people have been caught unaware by the weather and need a place to keep dry. Nancy flags her down the second she's through the doors.

_Nancy. Her name is Nancy._

_I think you're just making that up! _

God, it's so hard to stop hearing his voice. _See_, Penny thinks, not at all listening to the other waitress, _I wasn't making it up._

"…wasn't supposed to work tonight so look out, she's on the war path," Nancy says conspiratorially. Then, in a brighter tone that finally catches Penny's attention: "Oh – and your boyfriend's here. I made sure to keep them waiting so that you could take their order. Thank me later."

Penny's blood runs cold. She wants to throttle Nancy and at the same time throw herself into the woman's arms and bawl her eyes out. Not surprisingly, she fights the urge to do both these things to Sheldon, too.

"He's not my boyfriend anymore," she replies, her voice paper thin. "Boyfriends don't plan to go to the North Pole for three months without telling you." She takes the apron from a stunned Nancy and slips it on. "Boyfriends don't pick a job over you."

"Oh," Nancy tuts, "Honey, I'm sorry. I'll take their orders."

Penny squares her shoulders. "No, I'll do it." She takes her notepad from her apron pocket and marches over to the table. All four boys are there, and it suddenly seems Raj isn't the only one who can't talk in her presence.

"Hi boys," Penny says. She is trying to appear aloof but the trembling of her fingers around her pencil and notepad suggest otherwise. "Can I get you anything special for your last night at home?"

Raj ducks his head away. Howard has the good grace to not say anything disgusting. Leonard has been dreading this moment since Monday night, when he'd known what was coming next. Damn Sheldon and his need to follow routine.

"Penny," he coughs, reaching to pat her hand. "You don't have to –"

"Leonard, I'm fine," Penny interrupts. "We all knew this was coming, so let's just be grown ups, okay?" She's not sure if she's talking about their coming to eat here, or her and Sheldon's imminent demise. Still, she's not expecting the cold fluidity with which Sheldon speaks next. She's been hoping he might crack under the tension and beg to have her back.

"I'll have the Barbecue Burger," he says, and his voice sounds no different from any other time he's ordered a cheeseburger. There's no pain behind it, no tears trapped in his throat. Even his eyes are as clear and tearless as they've always been. Is it _that_ easy for him to switch off his emotions? He's just driven a knife into her stomach, but what twists it further in is that she can't stop staring at the muscles in his outstretched forearm as he hands her his menu.

Penny coughs, dragging her eyes away. "And Leonard?"

"You know our orders," Leonard replies, _sotto voce_. "You didn't have to come over."

"Yes I did," she says firmly, "It's my _job._" She looks pointedly at Sheldon, who is steadfast in examining the salt shaker. "Nothing else matters."

Tears are spilling down her cheeks now, hot angry diamonds that just won't stop no matter how tightly she sets her jaw and blinks.

Nobody seems to want to say anything except for Leonard, but she doesn't listen. "Penny," he pleads, "Please, you don't have to –"

"Yes I _do_," she cries, and several heads turn in their direction. "I have to be here because it's my freaking job and I can't afford to miss a shift because I owe two lots of rent and electricity and –" she turns to Sheldon, "– damn it _why_ did you have to come tonight?"

It seems only the salt shaker is destined to see the answer in his eyes.

Someone has a hand on her shoulder, tugging her away from the table, and she's about to scream at them until she realises it's her manager.

"Penny," Brian warns, "I think you should –"

"I know," she hisses, with one last desperate glare at Sheldon. "I'm going."

***

Sheldon is writing air equations on the couch, but there's too much running through his head and he keeps forgetting what he's written. Irritated, he wipes the symbols out of the air and goes over to his whiteboard. He tries the blue marker, but the ink is running out. He frowns, picks up the black instead, and starts to write. Almost instantly he makes a mistake. He can't concentrate. With a frustrated little grumble he pulls the magnetic eraser down from its spot in the corner of the board, and freezes. Underneath the eraser is a message in curly writing:

S + P

4eva

A memory flashes through his mind:

"_You wrote on my board," he says, affronted. When the message doesn't come off, he panics. "You wrote on my board in permanent marker!"_

_She beams. "Now you won't forget me when you're busy being a genius." _

_He scrutinises her writing. "What does that even mean?"_

_She laughs. "You whack-a-doodle. Didn't you ever write love notes in third grade?"_

_He stares at her pointedly. _

"_Oh right, you were probably too busy working on Calculus or something." _

"_Eighth grade Algebra, actually. I was only in third grade. What does it __**mean**_**, **_Penny?"_

"_It means 'Sheldon and Penny forever," she explains. _

_He blinks. "I don't understand. Are you suggesting we're somehow immortal, or that we'll be in a relationship for an inconceivable amount of time?" _

_She laughs and kisses him. "I hope you think 'inconceivable' is a good thing." _

Well, it's worked. She's making it impossible for him to forget her, no matter how hard he tries. It's the only way he can think to protect himself. If he can fool himself into thinking he'd never been with Penny in the first place then he won't have to spend another night staring at the ceiling, or change his laundry day to Sunday just to avoid her. His thumb lingers over the _P_ momentarily, grounding him long enough for whoever opens the door to catch him out. He jumps away from the board like he's been bitten, and whirls around to yell at the intruder for not knocking.

But the breath leaves him. It's Penny standing halfway through the threshold.

"Oh," she says quietly, her gaze downcast. "I thought Leonard was home."

"He's at the cinema with Wolowitz and Koothrappali," Sheldon answers lithely, capping the lid on his pen and putting the eraser back over the love note. "I opted to stay home because the _Icee _machine is broken at the theatre they're going to."

"Oh," she says again.

Silence.

It's obvious from the redness in her puffy eyes that she hasn't stopped crying since she fled the restaurant.

"Well, since the reason you're here is to talk to Leonard and Leonard is obviously not available, I suggest you go home and return later. I'll let him know you called in."

Penny doesn't say thankyou. She just nods and steps back into the hallway. He's halfway toward the kitchen when she changes her mind.

"Sheldon, wait."

He turns around expectantly, but she doesn't say anything. He raises an eyebrow.

"I'm making popcorn," he says, "I'm going to watch _The Dark Knight_. Do you have anything else to say or may I proceed?"

"H-how are you?" she ventures weakly. Her fingers tighten around the doorknob.

"How am I what?" he answers, feigning confusion. "I'm very busy, preparing for –" he can't mention the trip that sparked their downfall. "I'm – busy."

"You're always busy," she remarks, "That was the problem."

He falls still over the popcorn bag. "Penny, I do not wish to have another argument with you." His trembling voice belies the statement.

"So you think that after nearly a year together you can just dismiss me without a word? Turn your back on me, piss off to the Arctic and that's it?"

He blinks. "I'm given to understand that when a romantic involvement is cancelled it's not compulsory for one previous partner to converse with the other. I have attempted to keep my distance, but it seems –"

"– we're destined to keep running into each other," she finishes heatedly.

"_No_," he says firmly, "There's nothing 'fateful' about it. It's because of the proximity of our living arrangements and our overlapping social circles."

"Oh right, how could I forget? You don't believe in destiny. You can't accommodate for anything that's not scientific."

He grinds his jaw, leaves the room, and then returns with a piece of paper.

"Here." He hands it to her and withdraws his fist in case she tries to bite it off.

"What's this?"

He moves toward the kitchen to retrieve his popcorn. "I know your intelligence may be limited, Penny, but I trust you haven't forgotten how to read."

She turns up the heat of her glare, to cover the wince of pain. He has not directly called her an idiot in a long, long time. She consults the paper. It's a list of chores:

_Collect the mail. _

_Organise the mail into bills and non-bills. _

_Air out the apartment. _

_Feed the luminous fish. _

_Dust the apartment. _

_Pay the rent; the money will be stored in a locked kitchen draw. _

_Take note of any messages on the answering machine. _

"What am I, your house maid?" she asks bitterly.

"These are the activities Leonard and I need you to take care of during our absence."

"And what if I don't want to?"

He scowls. "I wouldn't be too surprised, I should think." He goes on to discuss the details of the chores, his back to her as he paces. Penny folds her arms across her chest, suddenly angrier than ever. She's frustrated that he won't make eye contact, pissed off that he dismisses her and then still expects her to clean for him. She's sick of feeling like the walking dead while he's perfectly happy to keep bossing her around like the same old Doctor Cooper.

"Sheldon," she says firmly.

"The areas closest to the window and door attract the most dust –"

"Sheldon," she says again, louder.

"…if the apartment is not dusted then both Leonard and I will suffer allergic –"

"Sheldon will you stop fucking talking and _look_ at me?"

There is a thick, viscous silence.

"I'm not like you," Penny says evenly.

"Evidently."

"Shut up and listen! I can't go around acting like I don't bleed, like everything's fine. I still love you," she sees him visibly flinch. "No matter how much I want to kill you. All this is hurting me, Sheldon, and I _know_ that you do care about that."

There is something to be said about the term 'snap.' You can snap a twig in half; hear a door snap closed in the aftermath of a fight; feel the last threads of elastic in your favourite bra snapping against your chest. These are ordinary circumstances, part of everyday life. But apply this term to a man and it becomes something different, something wild. Sheldon's entire body stiffens and hunches to remind her of a wildcat waiting to pounce. His shoulders curl inwards; his eyes turn so dark she can't see the soul that normally resides with them. When he speaks, he turns toward her, advancing slowly and finally meeting her gaze.

"I have avoided looking at you, Penny," he says in a dangerously low voice, "Because every time I do, I feel the need to do this."

With impossible strength he clutches at her waist and captures her lips, holding her so tight that the air is crushed from her lungs.

It's not a kiss. Kisses don't bruise your lips and your soul in one fell swoop. Kisses don't boil your blood with madness rather than desire. Penny struggles to move against him but her arms are caught awkward and steadfast in his crushing embrace. This is not the kind of moment she's built up in her head these last two weeks. She's expected some sort of last minute grand gesture: a rose left on her doorstep, a load of her washing, freshly laundered. Two words from Sheldon that _aren't_ empty and casual: _I'm sorry. _Instead she gets a reprisal disguised as regret.

His mouth is hot enough to burn, his teeth are sharp against hers and their tongues wrestle instead of dance. This is a battle. A punishment. Everything she's _never_ wanted, yet somehow she can't stop herself from retaliating. She gets a hand free and uses it to grip at the roots of his hair roughly. He groans in pain, his fingernails digging into her back, and she cries into his mouth. Before she can do anything to derail him further he yanks his lips away, the air that has been building in their mouths breaking free like a sigh.

She stands trembling in his arms. They have one night before he leaves. There's no time for them to make up for this horrible crime they've just committed. He'll leave and she'll be left alone with three months to rid her mouth of his bitter taste.

"You suck, just so you know," she spits, tearing free and heading for the door. But he grabs her wrist and wrenches her back so she spins into his chest with a yelp.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Sheldon growls, his voice filling her limbs with lead.

"Yeah? So?" Penny asks defiantly. Her body is pinned against him, he still has her wrist and it's starting to hurt. He lets go of it and slides his hand around her back, drawing her into him tighter. His free hand grabs her chin and holds her face up to his.

"There is an act called 'break up sex' that occurs when couples sever their bonds with one another. We have yet to perform this ritual. Due to the fact I am leaving tonight I wish to claim it now so I may leave in the morning without having to suffer through any following onslaught of awkwardness and unease."

He's never sounded like such a total and utter _man._ "I can't believe you just asked me for a one night stand before you go."

One of his hands slides down to massage her ass, fingers splayed. "Are you averse to the idea?"

How can she be _averse_ to it, when his breath feels like home on her cheek? She doesn't answer, just uses her hand to grip his hair tighter, her nails digging into his scalp.

"Have I told you you suck?" she whispers fiercely as he lifts one of her legs to rest on his hip. His evident arousal presses into her thigh and she chews her lip.

"Yes but it seems I'm actually rather _good_ in truth, if the dilation of your pupils is anything to go by." This is a long, slow ballet. The conclusion of the dance will be apparent when they've destroyed each other. Penny is shaking against him and by rights he should be too. He can't even fathom how this situation came about, but he'll be damned if he's going to stop. She's been tormenting him since the night of their fight. Albeit unintentionally, but to him it's all the same. The scent of her still lingers in a room when she leaves; the lullaby of her sigh is enough to set his jaw grinding with anguish; whenever he hears her shower running he has to excuse himself from the room. He's suffered through bouts of possessiveness before, but never something this carnal. How can she think he doesn't want her, crave her, _need_ her? The idea of her doubting him drives him mad. It always has. Sheldon Cooper presents facts and figures that are _not _to be doubted. His fingers press more firmly into her ass, intending to bruise.

Penny exhales against the marine blue of his shirt. _God_, she loves him in dark colours. She wonders if she's ever told him how easily he can turn her on, or if that too is something she'd just expected him to understand. It would seem he knows that now, by the confident way he strokes her cheek with his thumb and stares into her eyes like he can recite her thoughts. She suddenly remembers when he'd played that 'Trestling' game with Raj, and how even with two hands pulling at his one arm Sheldon could not be swayed. Of course he's always had this strength, she thinks, he's just never used it against her before. Their second kiss is like a crash: violent and so fast it's too late to stop them from spinning out of control. They dissolve quickly into bouts of nipping and scratching, groaning and cursing. To all intents and purposes this is a fight, a brawl. The only difference is they're too afraid to actually hit each other. Sheldon is shoving her towards the door but Penny instinctively shoves back, knowing he's trying to get them towards _her_ place. She wants to see his face cringe as they fall onto _his_ beloved bed, the room nobody can be in.

He fights her at the last second when they're about to sink onto his mattress. So she swirls her tongue around his, the way that makes his knees buckle, and damn the consequences Sheldon Cooper's bed becomes their victim. He rears above her, dangerously silent, something reminiscent of a snarl on his lips. Her arms slide up and under the back of his shirt, raking nails into his skin. She feels her underwear being pulled, _torn_ away from her body with a hard yank and hears his zipper being dragged down. His hands are planted either side of her head as he enters her without a warning, a word, an apology. Penny holds onto him, not for dear life but because she wants to burn him with the heat of her skin. He once told her that 'blype' is the name given to the skin that peels away after sunburn. She wonders now if love has a similar name, as it fades away when you've been burnt by anger, revenge and carelessly thrown words. Their mouths meld together; their limbs become a tangle of jagged angles in perpetual motion.

With every thrust words are closer and closer to being squeezed out of them both. Neither one is willing to let them spill just yet. Penny bites into his shoulder to keep them at bay, the letters scraping against the backs of her teeth. Sheldon grunts, using one hand to hold her thigh up against his waist as he drives harder into her. His mouth is a thin white line, his brow furrowed. She bites her tongue, unable to keep quiet. It's a phenomenal effort not to just spill her heart out as it is. So she gives in.

"Kiss me," she demands, and he does. Long and hard, until the colour leaves her cheeks. "I don't want you to go," she says fiercely.

"I know," he bites out, and though the rest is unspoken she hears it. _But I'm going anyway._ She grabs at his shoulders and rakes her nails down his back, furiously working her tongue into his mouth. Sheldon growls at the pain but she swallows the sound. He bites down on her lip and won't let her pull away to gasp; his fingers are woven tight into the back of Penny's hair and he holds her mouth to his until she's nearly blue in the face. When he finally lets go she breathes in great gulps of air and he uses her distraction to force her further up the bed, so her head hits the pillows with a smack. He drives into her hard and she continues to claw at his back, a grimace on her face and tears on her cheeks. But as Sheldon meets her gaze, he sees that she's not crying, and realises they are _his_ tears that are falling, that are staining her skin with the power of his guilt.

She doesn't deserve his silence.

"I love –" his hoarse voice cuts off, like the end of a message. He looks away from her, his expression heavy. It tears another hole in her heart. She grips him tighter.

_I'm not like you. _

"I lied before," she whispers, because she was wrong. What is this, after all, if not some great big proof that they both hate, both love, are both completely and utterly lost but won't ask for help?

He just looks at her. _About what?_

And because she is foolish, she doesn't answer, and he's left to think the worst: she doesn't love him after all. Somewhere deep in the centre of him – under the skin and muscle and bone – something dies, and he is no longer a beast but a wounded animal. This is, truly, a one night only event: a solar eclipse, a sky raining comets, a man being struck by lightning three times. At least he can identify with the last one, because each of Penny's words has been a bolt of electricity travelling white hot through the heart of him in succession.

And suddenly it's too much to feel.

Sheldon's mind switches to autopilot and, just like that, this is not about revenge or guilt or heartache. He listens hard for the exact pitch of her moaning, using it as a guide for how fast to move, how to kiss her without letting his heart slip into her mouth. He can taste his name on her throat, calculate her exact body temperature. Penny notices only a slight difference by the way he moves inside her: it no longer feels like he's trying to devour her from the inside out. She wraps one arm around his neck and sits up, burying her face in his shoulder as they move. One of his hands comes around her back – a support as much as an entrapment – and his fingernails press into her skin. She shivers as he fills her entirely with the new position, and three deep strokes later Penny's climax hits her like a storm. Funny, how his lack of emotion can bring out so much in her. She clutches at the back of his head, her lips pressed tight into his neck to muffle her scream – _he's not having the satisfaction of hearing me _– and her skin itches, her heart races. She wraps her legs tight around him as she goes blind with the agony of it all, words playing through her mind like a drumbeat: _last time, last time, last time._ And then it recedes, like some tsunami moving backwards, and she's left empty yet full of regret.

Only she's not entirely empty.

Sheldon is still moving inside her, even as she falls back limp onto the sheets, even as her expression clearly says _there; your turn,_ in the blankest way possible. He bends over her, pushing harder with each breath, the muscles in his back straining. Who was he kidding, to think he could see this through the end? His anger, it turns out, has been a candle burning at both ends. He can't bear for this to stop, this last moment of intimacy with her, yet he can't wait for it to be over. He counts his measured breathing – _one, two, three, one, two, three – _and then _oh_ there it is, that feeling that he's about to fall off a cliff. He can feel it happening, his body surging forwards, and imagines the wind on his face. _It must say something about me_, he thinks, _that I dream of falling with her when I loathe heights._ His hips stutter, his mouth forms a soundless scream and he fists one hand in Penny's hair because he can't help it. He times it at 7.6 seconds, but it feels like an eternity. It lasts so long he can see the cliff face as a blur beside him while he falls, he can see every crack of the earth that's rushing up to meet him.

And then he hits the ground, letting himself fall onto Penny.

Despite what they've just done, this post-coital act of closeness stuns them both. She inhales sharply and he's quick to roll away, mumbling an apology. She's not sure if he's saying sorry for everything, or just the fact that his lips brushed hers for the briefest moment when he fell, a stolen goodbye kiss. The room is cold all of a sudden, like their fire had been heating the whole apartment, and they both hesitantly climb under the blankets, backs to each other. Penny presses her cheek into the pillow, slightly coarse against her skin. But that doesn't matter. She's been rubbed raw for a long time now. Sheldon bunches his pillow beneath him and hugs another to his chest. He tries not to tell himself that it's because his arms feel empty without her weight in them, that this is not a poor substitute. If lying on his side, he needs to slightly elevate his right arm or the shoulder muscle will be stretched. That's all.

They each lie on their own side of the bed, bookends for a collection of stories too painful to read, and the room quietens, and nobody sleeps.


	8. Chapter 8

_The eighth time they sleep, they're not together. But they may as well be. _

Sheldon has just spent the entire night staring at his bedroom wall, curled into the foetal position with his eyes wide open. So at first, when he snaps out of his trance-like state and feels as though there's a third person in bed with them, he thinks he must be hallucinating. He rubs his eyes and reluctantly glances over his shoulder, thankful that Penny is still asleep. Sometime during the night she's turned in his direction and he scans the terrain of her sleeping face for a moment before realising there _is_ another being in bed with them: regret. Exceedingly ugly and obese, with a bitter expression and wistful glaze over its eyes, this remorse is enough to make the mattress between them sink. It encases them in its folds and wakes Penny, because who can sleep with a weight such as this bearing down on them? She catches Sheldon still staring at her and it's like a moment out of a horror movie when you think the beast is dead. But no, her eyes open and meet his and every moment of last night plays through his mind and with a little too much resignation he turns his back to her once again.

"It's almost seven," Penny's voice somehow reaches him across the vast distance between them. "You'll want to be getting ready soon, won't you?"

_You have no clue as to what I __**want**__, _Sheldon thinks, but he won't answer. He hears her sigh over the soft ruffling of sheets as she slides out from under them. With his eyes closed he can gather enough courage to sit upright, bent over his edge of the bed. He watches in his mind's eye as Penny goes through the motions of waking up: taming her bed hair with a hand, wiping her mascara smudged eyes, smoothing down the clothes she'd slept in. Sure enough, he hears the scraping of her fingers down her skirt and _dear Lord_, it makes him want to grab her by the waist again and –

"I, uh…" Penny's voice starts out confident, determined to say something that's meaningful, but withers by just the second word. Which is not _technically_ a word, he can't help but notice. "I'll come by later to drive you guys," she says, but what he hears is _I'll be there to watch you leave._ He stays where he is, hunched over his pillow, and waits until the lock of his door clicks before he moves.

Sheldon gets up and stares at his bed with contempt. He doesn't want to do another load of washing before leaving, but he pictures himself ensnared beneath the sheets when he returns and grimaces. He would be lying in a bed that has had three months to steep in the scent of _her, _collecting dust and dreams for his return. _Will she sleep in here_, he thinks, _when I'm gone?_ Will she creep into his room in the dead of night, when her thoughts are at their most unsettled, and fit herself to his pillow and imagine he's there with her? He touches the duvet and to his mind springs a flash of her face, turning away from his question.

_About what? About __**what**__? _

With a growl that is only half suppressed he rips off the bed sheets and folds them without enlisting Leonard's usual help, putting them aside for washing.

He makes a mental note to lay out fresh sheets after breakfast, intent on starting over when he comes home.

***

_He knows_, Penny thinks to herself as she drives the boys to the airport. The car's atmosphere is an odd mixture of excitement and awkwardness, like being crushed in the depths of a crowd of strangers at a rock concert: it's fine being caught up in the rhythm of things until you make eye contact with someone and realise you don't quite know them well enough. Leonard is riding shotgun due to his car sickness; the others are in the back. Penny can feel Sheldon's eyes boring into her, yet every time she checks her rear view mirror he glances away. Is he trying to memorise her features or burn a hole in the back of her head? It's hard to tell. Every second word that comes from her mouth is in danger of being the truth. But she doesn't need to say it; she keeps telling herself that Sheldon _knows_ she loves him; that last night was nothing but the result of too many bottled up emotions. But she can't help acknowledging that he takes _everything _seriously. And she can't stop seeing his body doubled over on the edge of the bed, as if in pain, as he'd waited for her to leave this morning.

"He knows," Leonard assures her in a whisper as they pass through customs and she catches his eye. He's been watching her steal glances at his best friend since they first walked through the doors of the airport. It's a delicate dance between the two of them, with one snatching quick, wistful looks as she brushes away her fringe, as he adjusts his carry-on luggage over his shoulder. He knows what the worried expression on her face means because he'd spent the better part of a year wondering the same thing about her. But seeing that Sheldon is steadfast in giving her the cold shoulder, he has doubts that his friend returns the sentiment. He does not tell Penny this. He hugs her hard enough for his optimism to be passed on, and then steps aside so she can bid the others farewell.

"He knows," Penny murmurs to herself as she comes to the end of the 'goodbye' line up and hesitantly hugs Sheldon. It's not so much a hug as it is her patting him very lightly on the back, her arm awkwardly around his shoulder. They both step back into their own breathing space with relief, only to find they _can't_ breathe. They've wasted too much time finding the bar so that Raj could actually say goodbye to her and then waiting in line for the toilet as his beers took effect. They're running out of time. The boarding call for their flight plays out over the intercom. But Sheldon makes no move to follow the others, who are inching away. There's a sentence caught like a cobweb in his throat, sticky and surprisingly strong. She sees his lips part to form her name, and forgets all about the others.

"Penny," he stops himself midair from touching her arm. "I –"

"Sheldon come _on_," Howard calls, "There are sexy air hostesses waiting for me join the Mile High Club!"

Whatever he's about to say is lost over the final boarding call, as he shakes his head just enough for her to notice and then walks away.

_He knows_, she prays, as he boards the plane. He stands firmly in the doorway for three seconds, the amount of time it takes for her to acknowledge that he _doesn't_ know. Because she'd been an idiot, because she'd wanted to hurt him like he'd hurt her. It's hard to tell if he's stuck in the threshold because he's afraid of the plane, or too scared to leave her. It's so difficult to read him today. He doesn't _know_. She wonders briefly if he's got the same drumbeat thumping through his mind: _does she? Does she? Does she?_ Eventually Howard gives him a push and he stumbles over the threshold and out of sight. She watches until all four of the boys have been swallowed by the plane, until the craft takes off and she can imagine she sees their faces, tiny and smiling, in the windows. She stands shivering in the early morning sun and watches their plane until it's the size of a beach ball, a bird, a prayer.

"I love you," she whispers, and then she turns away.

***

"You don't need to keep such a vigil over me," Sheldon says without opening his eyes. They're about to take off. He has his hands firmly kneading the arms of his seat, his head dipped back against the headrest. Leonard, Raj and Howard have been nervously watching him since they sat down, waiting for any sign that he's about to freak out over flying. This is only his third flight.

"I'll believe that when you stop massaging the chair like you want to sleep with it," says Howard.

Sheldon looks down and pries his fingers away. "I'm aware that you've all heard the story of my last plane flight, curtesy of my sister. Let me remind you that I was fourteen at the time and since it's been twelve years, I don't plan to insist on checking the pilot's license and then projectile vomiting in the cockpit."

The truth is that he's not that scared of flying this time. After all, he'd been with Penny for nearly twelve months. He's fallen so many times since then that a mere thirty-five thousand feet seems a childish thing to worry about. He's also just a little relieved to be somewhere far, far away, where he can be alone with his thoughts and his science.

They take off with a slight wave of turbulence and for a moment his body stiffens in the chair.

"_Come on, you can do this. You got all the way up here and you can get down too." _

Either Leonard's voice has become strangely feminine, or he's got more memories of Penny running through his mind. He sighs and lets his eyes fall closed once more. She's right again. He has come this far, the least he can do is hunker down and see it through to the end. He's certainly not going to let Wolowitz have the satisfaction of seeing him suffer a panic-attack mid-flight. Having his eyes closed is a catch-22: he can imagine he's somewhere safely on the ground, but on the other hand there's nothing to focus on but the feeling of the plane's motions, swaying every so often in the air. He starts to think of the floor beneath his feet and the machinery beneath that, and then the thousands and thousands of feet of nothing but _air_ below that –

"Sheldon, how are you doing?"

Leonard's voice brings him back from the brink of a meltdown.

"Fine," he bites out, looking anything but.

"Try listening to your Ipod for a while," his friend suggests, "It might take your mind off the flight."

Sheldon digs into his pocket for the device and settles into his chair. He doesn't have much music on it and the little that he has is left over from the time Penny had borrowed it for a trip to Nebraska. She'd been going for a week and had taken the Ipod without his permission. At first he'd been irate about it, until she'd told him she'd taken it so she could listen to his recorded lectures, his voice. Now he finds his Theme Songs folder and relaxes immediately as the first bar of _A Space Odyssey _plays. With the music playing it's easy to forget the fear, the altitude, Penny. After a while he even finds the courage to glance out the window – his stomach does a somersault, but doesn't take long to calm down. The clouds breeze past a couple of feet below, moving lazily across the sky as if to look at the plane and say _hey, what's the rush?_ He shakes his head to clear it of such thoughts. Clouds don't say anything! An hour passes, and then another and at some point he must fall asleep because the next moment Leonard is shaking his shoulder and telling him to turn off his Ipod for landing. He's grateful for the post-nap fog that lingers in his mind, overpowering his fear of landing. He's _very _grateful for it when the plane judders with turbulence and hits the ground with more force than he'd be comfortable with if he could think clearly.

"The exits are here to your right," the air hostess announces. "Have a nice day." There are not many passengers, so it doesn't take long for them to shuck on their thick jackets and follow Howard and his leer past the unfortunate air hostess.

This place takes Sheldon's breath away. Not because of its beauty, but because of the sheer cold: the wind buffets them the instant they pass through the doorway. He can't see for the snow that's whipping around and the stark white that's close to blinding him. He stumbles into Raj on the way down the steps, too awestruck to apologise. A man could get lost in a place like this. If you stop to reflect for a moment you'll fall behind. And maybe that's exactly what he needs: an _excuse _to stop pining. The wind is so harsh it strips away any chance of emotion: all you can do is keep moving or you'll freeze.

"_You can't stay up here forever." _

He huddles deeper into the folds of his jacket and steps onto the snow. He casts his gaze into the distance but it's too hard to see. All he has is hear and now. It doesn't frighten him like he thought it would.

"_I'm willing to attempt it." _

***

By the time Penny arrives home from the airport, she decides she is well and truly screwed. Through the duration of the drive she'd changed her mood more often than she changes her hair style: she'd wanted to go chase the plane down; she'd cried at every red light; she'd _cursed_ at every red light; she'd repeated the phrase _'this is why we broke up, he __**wants **__to be there' _in her head. Her car door had taken a good beating as she slammed it upon arrival and then drifted mindlessly up the staircase of her apartment building. Penny faces her door now without taking her eyes off the slightly tarnished 4B plaque. _I won't look behind me,_ she thinks, though Leonard's door seems to be staring at her, _I won't look back._ Her key gets jammed in the lock: she sighs and takes her eyes off the plaque long enough to see that she's once again used her car key. This time it wriggles mercifully free on the first go and she slips inside. She kicks off her shoes and sets down her bag, trying to pretend that even these small actions mean she has the intention of starting over. She's got three months to sort out her emotions, three months of utter isolation to clear her head.

But what she does first is stand on a piece of glass.

"Son of a bitch," she curses, sucking in a breath. Sinking onto the couch she cradles her heel, inspects the cut. It's a sliver of glass from the photo frame she'd broken two weeks ago. She'd only just cleared away the memorabilia of her relationship with Sheldon: photos, presents, clothes…all had been put into a box and stuffed in the back of her closet. She hadn't the heart to just throw it all away, and maybe that says something about her that she's not willing to acknowledge. She'd forgotten the glass: one stupid little piece of the puzzle, one little reminder of why she'd loved and why she'd hurt.

"You're gone," she says, loud enough for it to echo. "You're in the stupid Arctic with your stupid science and that's why we're not together. I have to start…_again_!"

At the last word she yanks the sliver from her skin, pretending it's the cause of her sudden tears when really it doesn't hurt at all.

***

(Song used is "Just Pretend," sung by Elvis. It's a song that never fails to make me think of my grandma. SUCH a sad song.)

"_I didn't know you enjoyed Elvis Presley music," he says, organising her CD collection by release date. _

"_There's just some music that will never get old," she replies, taking a 'Greatest Hits' from him and playing it on her stereo. "My grandma used to say he could sing her own thoughts back to her." _

_He just gives her a blank look. "That's impossible on so many levels." _

_She throws her pillow at him as 'Are You Lonesome Tonight?' starts to play. She watches him listening to it, his fingers slowing over her other CDs, his head tilting slightly. _

"_Why do you listen to this?" he enquires. _

_She smiles. "Why?"_

"_Well, it just sounds so melancholic and depressing." _

"_I like that it makes me sad."_

"_Why would you enjoy being sad?"_

_She leans into him, feeling his heart beat to the rhythm of the music. "It's a nice sad, Sheldon." _

He knows what she means now. The King's voice fills his head and he can't help but think of her, of home, of his family. It's a distraction, no matter how sweet, and he has work to do. Nevertheless, Sheldon huddles further into his thermal jacket and reluctantly turns the volume up. Anything is better than the constant beating of the wind against the questionable shack they reside in. _Heartbreak Hotel _ends and on the heels of it comes a piano intro tinged with regret and wistfulness:

_Oh, it's funny, _

_But I can't recall_

_The things we said_

_Or why you cried_

_But now I know_

_It was wrong to go_

_I belong there by your side_

He inadvertently snaps his pencil in half, without realising he'd ever tightened his grip on it. Dear Lord, even a singer who's been dead for decades has a better insight to his feelings than he does. When a person is gone, you don't recall their negative idiosyncrasies, their bad singing or their stubbornness. All you can remember is the way they wished on a shooting star even though you'd just stripped away its magic with science, or how they came home early from work to calm you down when your favourite TV show was rescheduled. He's sure as hell having a difficult time remembering the awful things Penny had said to him.

***

She sees him _everywhere_.

It's like she's seeing the ghost of someone who is not dead. The brushing of her hand against the fabric of her dress brings to mind his The Flash t shirt, meticulously folded and placed at the foot of the bed. The sight of a stranger waving to another conjures the image of his nimble, reflexive hands that moved so gently she'd sometimes think she'd imagined them. The flutter of a bird's wings makes her remember the feel of his hummingbird heartbeat under her ear. He'd left her a list of things to do while they were gone: collecting the mail, airing the apartment, feeding Sheldon's fish night lights. She can't bring herself to open the door, though. God help her when they arrive home to a cluttered mailbox and musty apartment that smells like dead fish. Every day she passes the door of 4A and thinks, just for a second, she can hear moving around: shouting over a heated game of Halo; narration over a match of Wii bowling; the muted sounds of a Super Man marathon. She stares despondently at the door and tries not to remember what's really inside: comic books being left unread; whiteboards with no equations on them; dust gathering on the desk of a man obsessed with cleanliness.

"_I'm a man obsessed, Penny," he explains as his hands roam over her entire body. She presses into his touch, proud of having distracted him from work. _

"_With what?" she asks, expecting the answer to be about physics, science fiction, DC Comics. _

"_With you," he replies, blinking, as if this were the most obvious answer. _

It has been a lonely two months. A quiet, normal…_boring_ two months. There had been times when she'd wondered how she could continue living with these nerds in her life. Now she panics a little at the thought of ever living without them. She also panics because there's only one month until Sheldon returns. They'd left things in such a terrible state before he left that now she's not sure where that leaves her. She'd struggled with this for the first few weeks of the boy's' departure, having been so upset with Sheldon. She wasn't sure if she was free to see other men, if he'd be thinking of her, if she could go out with her friends without wishing he was there to lecture her on the dangers of alcohol. She'd drifted through her life in standby mode, deciding the safest thing to do would be to keep a level head and ask Sheldon what he wanted when he returned. There is not long to go.

She just has to get through the next four weeks without doing anything stupid.

Which, given her track record, makes her feel a little worried.

***

It starts with a bad day at work.

A long, busy, kids-throwing-cake sort of day at work. The kind of shift that has her feet aching in new shoes, her hair continuously falling from its bun and her co-workers watching her as if she'll break down at any minute because it's Hamburger Tuesday and once again the nut job's table is empty. Add to this the fact that she'd had to visit home on the weekend – this time _without_ Sheldon's presence to reinforce that she wasn't a goalless, lonely waitress – and Penny decides desperate times call for desperate measures. She needs to unwind, be lost in the crowd of a bar with a sleazy name. She opens the contacts list of her phone.

"Carey, it's me," she announces. "I need to go out."

Her friend lets out an excited squeal. "Seriously? Party Penny is alive again?"

She curls her toes against the coffee table, thinking of her previous plan to keep on the straight and narrow. _Screw it._ "Well, just for tonight. I need to _drink_."

"Are we talking Beth's twenty-first kind of drinking or a night we won't even remember?"

Penny sucks in a breath. "Honey, I'm in serious need of a mind-wipe."

There's a pause. "I'll be there in an hour. Tell the girls."

"_You __**know**__ this endeavour is not going to end well. Don't come over tomorrow until you're sure the smell of rum and vomit has faded from your clothes."_

This is not _her_ mind talking. She casts away thoughts of Sheldon and tries to gather an excited smile for the phone. "Great," she says, "I'll see you soon."

Five hours later, Penny is so wasted she can barely remember her name – let alone that of the guy she is hanging off. Most of her girlfriends are in likewise situations throughout the bar: dirty dancing with men they've never met, making out in a corner booth, singing ridiculously loud to a song that's not even playing. Penny is an adventurous drunk that can become an emotional one at the drop of a hat – or drink. Five seconds ago she'd suggested they move this on to the local beach and go skinny dipping, until she'd remembered Sheldon complaining about the sand in his lecture book. Now she's trying to pour her heart out to this man who has his arm draped around her and his hand on her thigh, but not much is coming across except cuss words and references to Star Trek.

"…and you can totally see where I'm coming from right?! When Spock's planet was fucked up you didn't see Uh…Uru…Uruhaha telling him that she loved him and she was proud and that was all that fucking mattered!"

The guy – Jeff, or Jake or something – smiles indulgently and nods. "He's a bastard, obviously."

"And then that guy! You know that bald one from the old series who was the psycho…psychic in _X Men_? He –"

"Do you want to go talk somewhere private?" Jeff/Jake interrupts.

Her raving stops as she tries to focus her gaze on him. She can't tell if he's attractive anymore, the tequila shots have shut down her 'hot guy' radar. Penny presses her forehead to his with a bit too much force and grins. "Sure," she hiccups, "But not the beach."

It takes so long to hail a cab and for the guy to correctly give his address that by the time they arrive at his apartment, Penny is starting to sober up. She tries to pretend she's still wasted and that she still thinks sleeping with Joseph – she's finally recalled his name – is a good idea. After all, he's playing with her hair and telling her how beautiful she is and she hasn't felt attractive in a long time. They stumble out of the cab, throwing money in the driver's direction, and make the journey to an elevator that actually works. They're the only ones in it, so she takes the opportunity to start making out with him. He's not a fantastic kisser but she's still pretty buzzed, so she blindly hopes he'll make up for it in bed.

"My floor," Joseph gasps when their mouths break apart. He doesn't need to take her hand because she's already pretty much wrapped around him and they move to the bedroom with no pause for thought or pleasantries. This is what it is and if she's being smart about anything tonight it's that she can at least acknowledge that.

"Nice room," she murmurs into his mouth without even glancing at their location. He grunts in response, already bunching up the bottom of her dress and pushing them toward the bed. Penny feels his light weight over her and suppresses any thought that even Sheldon is heavier than this guy. She drags her dress up and off and is just reaching down for his zipper to find that he's already pulled his pants down.

"I like you," she announces with a drunken drawl, "You get right to the point."

"Yeah," Joseph replies bluntly, his hands tightly gripping her hips. "Listen, could you turn over?"

Penny immediately stiffens. "Over?" she repeats. She's on her back, and wriggles up the bed a little way. He uses his hands to get the point across, fingers squeezing her skin as he tries to turn her onto her back. His breath is hot on her face and reeks of beer.

"O-okay," she stammers, feeling the cotton of his shirt against her skin when she's turned over. He kisses the back of her neck and she relaxes, closing her eyes. At least like this she doesn't have to see his face. But then he thrusts into her and she cries out. It's not because he doesn't feel right, it's because he feels so strangely like _Sheldon_. Her heart hammers painfully as she tries not to picture the physicist rearing over her, skin flushed red and eyes dark as sin. Hands slide down over her stomach, holding her up, the other winding into her hair and she can't help it –

"Sheldon!"

Joseph stills against her, panting into her ear. "Huh?"

Penny shakes her head. "I'm – I'm sorry, I just – I need to use the bathroom," she says quickly, "I'll be a second."

In the bathroom she stares at herself in the mirror: bags under her eyes, hair a mess, eyes brimming with tears that have been waiting to fall for weeks. Okay, so she still loves Sheldon. She can't be the scientist that just disposes of her emotions when it suits her. She's jealous of him, of the fact that he can go away on this trip without a worry and she's still hurting. But isn't this what she's always done? The weekend of rebound sex? So why does she feel like she's cheating, instead of nursing a broken heart? She splashes water onto her face but instead of it having a calming effect it's a wake up call. She's not done with Sheldon, who was she kidding? And she runs, slips her dress back on and stumbles out the door before she can make another huge mistake on her already growing list. The one closest to the top of which was letting Sheldon go away thinking she didn't love him.

It feels like a decade has passed by the time her cab finally pulls up outside her apartment, by the time she slips out of the slinky dress she plans to never wear again and hides under the covers of her mercifully empty bed. She falls asleep instantly and wakes up the next morning with a hangover to die for, but she doesn't quite feel like killing herself. Why?

There's a heart beating against her ear: his heartbeat.

Penny is blissfully ignorant for the longest four seconds of her life. She opens her eyes to an empty bed and deflates. It is not Sheldon's heart tapping a rhythm against her ear, but a bird rapping on her window outside. It's not his chest her cheek is pressed against but a pillow, rough against her skin.

And still it's so much better to know that than to know it's another man.

A man who _isn't _Sheldon Cooper.

***

Penny finds her diary during a mission to find the apple she'd accidentally lost down the side of her bed. Stretched out on her stomach so she can reach down between the wall and the mattress her hands close around something square and plastic, rather than round and half-eaten. Dragging the object up from the depths of dust-bunny land she recognises it instantly: the diary she'd been keeping for nearly two years. She's cautious. The diary has been a place to hide her secret pleasures but just as easily it can bring forth the pains of her life. She abandons any thoughts of rescuing her apple and settles cross legged on the bed with the book propped in her lap. The inside page is a pen-scribbled picture of her face with a neon light sign behind, illuminating the words: 'Movie Star'. The first few entries are mostly her babbling about settling into Pasadena and her hopes for acting jobs. She snatches up a pen from the night stand and scribbles into the margin – _should __**not**__ have gotten your hopes up, past Penny. _

The rest of the entry brings a flutter to her chest:

_Oh, and my new neighbours are sweet. Leonard and Sheldon. They're the perfect example of nerd and they have friends that should come with warning labels but it's nice to know I've made friends already. Okay, I say 'friends'…I think Leonard just has a crush on me. I'm not sure where that leaves Sheldon though…he's like totally blind to women, apparently. _

She flips through more pages to find the date she wants:

_September 12__th__, 2007_

_I cannot FREAKING believe I just did that. I let Sheldon experiment on me…with sex. What the crap was I thinking? As if Leonard's not going to find out! The poor guy's going to be heartbroken! Not that it meant anything, it was just science. _

…

_Is it wrong to say it was completely mind-blowing? _

Penny blushes over the words, steadfast in ignoring the little stars and rainbows pencilled around the edge of the entry. She searches for the next important entry, finds it:

_I hate men. _

_It's so unfair that a woman can't take pride in her appearance without guys wanting to take advantage. I hope this creep falls asleep at the wheel tonight and dies. God, all I can think about is what might have happened if I hadn't gotten away. It makes me sick. I can't sleep. The only thing that helps me feel better is…Sheldon? (I'm just looking at what I've written here). Really? He __**was**__ pretty great about it all. It's not some big romantic deal, it's the opposite actually: I like him because he doesn't treat me like just some woman. He's rude and stubborn and god I could just kill him sometimes…but at least I know he'll never try to take advantage of me. And he can be sweet without realising it, I think. _

_Okay, so I don't hate __**all**__ men. _

She reads until her eyes glaze over with the memories, until her stomach growls in reproach for not getting the rest of that apple, until she can't clearly define the line between hating Sheldon and loving him. The entries seem to go on forever, interspersed with drawings of hearts and sandcastles and Penny Blossoms:

_October 25__th__, 2007: _

_I don't know what I'm going to tell Leonard, because I can hardly find the words to tell __**myself**__ – _

_I like Sheldon. _

_It's so weird to say. But it's not, at the same time. I really like him. After Kurt, every time I slept with a man I felt this tiny part of me saying things wouldn't work out, that he wouldn't be there in the morning. But with Sheldon, I can see a future. It's probably a future filled with Comic Cons and him asking me to Tivo Battlestar while he's away, sure. But at least there's not this annoying twinge that makes me doubt him. He's always there, right across the hall, whenever I might need him. _

_October 27__th__, 2007: _

_He likes it when I tickle his stomach. Shame he didn't know how I __**hate**__ having my feet touched! _

_October 30__th__, 2007: _

_I'm going out to dinner with S in a minute, not much time: he'll complain if I'm late. Just wanted to say: I'd worry that I'm drowning him with the intensity of this love I have, if I didn't know for sure he felt the exact same way. _

_November 7__th__, 2007:_

_Met the whole Cooper family this weekend. Had a blast! Sheldon pulled me aside to ask if we could leave early, though. At first I thought it was my fault; that maybe I was embarrassing him – until I realised it was __**him**__, not me. He didn't feel comfortable around them. His older brother was a bit of a jerk – typical back in the day college jock who kept calling Sheldon a 'Rocket Surgeon' because he thought it was funny. His meemaw – Gramma Grace, I'm supposed to call her – was sweet as pie. But it was like everyone treated him like a special little kid instead of a brilliant adult or even a normal person. On the way back he put his hand over mine and said he couldn't wait to get home. Never mind the place he'd grown up in, he thinks the life we have now is home. _

_I think I'm the family he wants the most. _

_December 3__rd__, 2007:_

_Only just found my diary again. Sheldon went on a cleaning frenzy in my apartment and even moved my bed around to vacuum. The diary fell behind the back of my nightstand, couldn't find it for…well, however long it's been since the last entry. BUT I have some news of progress! He's agreed to help me put up my Christmas tree this year. Okay, so it's not his own…but he's willingly helping. Making popcorn on a string and everything! I'm so proud. _

_January 1__st__, 2008: _

_We celebrated New Years on the roof of our apartment building. A bunch of friends, a bottle of wine and a man who's afraid of heights standing with his arms around me looking out over a city of fireworks: is there any better recipe for a great year to come? _

_January 20__th__, 2008:_

_Sheldon totally flipped out today because Missy had a pregnancy scare. He kept saying that because she didn't know who the dad was, she'd 'potentially ruined any chance of perfecting the family line'. I think basically he was pissed because for all he knew the baby could have had a drug addict for a father. Not that Missy would ever be dumb enough to sleep with someone like that. And I'm sure either way the baby would have turned out fine, having such a great uncle like Sheldon. Sure, he kept calling it a 'Sheldon 2.0' and saying he'd have to personally monitor Missy during the nine months because he wouldn't trust the doctor, but I think it's cute that he was so worried. In fact I think Sheldon could be a pretty good da – woah. _

_Where did that come from?_

_Anyway. Turns out Missy wasn't pregnant after all. _

_March 13__th__, 2008:_

_Forget babies. I wouldn't share a meal with Sheldon, let alone a kid. I freaking COOKED for him tonight; I went all out 'Stepford Wives' with candles and polished cutlery and a roast: he shows up at TEN THIRTY rambling about some breakthrough at the office, kisses me on the cheek and goes back to his apartment, apparently too excited to eat. I got no apology until the next morning when he found the roast going off in HIS bathroom sink. _

_March 24__th__, 2008: _

_Is it too much to ask for him to put down his stupid whiteboard marker and HUG me when I'm depressed? _

_April 4__th__, 2008:_

_We had a whole conversation today without saying anything relevant to each other. What's the point of that? _

_April 8__th__, 2008: _

_I shouldn't have yelled at him. The poor guy's almost a robot. He doesn't know what he's doing wrong. But I don't feel like I know what I'm doing right. We just seem to be going around in circles – fight, make up, fight, make up. It's making me dizzy…and scared. _

_May 16__th__, 2008: _

_The bastard said he didn't want me. I keep trying to think that he didn't mean it…but why would he blurt it like that if he __**didn't**__? He's leaving in two weeks, and now we have to just step around each other. Why does he have to be so damn honest all the time? All the other men in my life have just lied to me about how they feel. This is the first time his honesty has really hurt me. _

_May 18__th__, 2008: _

_Last night I was watching Pretty Woman and the DVD stopped. At first it was just skipping every few seconds, and then it made this annoying grinding sound and just paused, on a completely __**unflattering**__ screen cap of Vivien. I cried over it! I use an exclamation mark, but I'm not really that surprised. I've been crying over spilt milk lately. No, really. It just pushed me over the edge, because seriously, you're in the middle of something great and then you start to see the little faults, like warning signs, and you want to believe they'll stop but you know it's just going to unravel from there. And then BAM! The whole thing blows up in your face and you're frozen in that moment. And you think sure, you can just go back to the beginning and hope it all works out next time but you __**know **__it'll just play out the same way. _

_Huh. I think I just had one of those epiphanies Sheldon used to talk about. _

Penny curls the book into her chest and sinks down onto her pillows. Her hunger is long forgotten; it's late anyway and all she wants is to fall asleep so she can dream about Sheldon. She imagines him lying right across from her, his face serene with sleep and his left hand stretched halfway towards hers, as if even in his dreams he wants her to follow him. She doesn't know that thousands of miles away Sheldon too is huddling into his jacket and preparing for a quick nap – surely if he sleeps he'll be able to dream about her?

They are in their own beds. They are starting to fall asleep, alone. But in spirit, they couldn't be any more together if they tried.

***

He can hear thumping, an erratic rhythm, and for a moment he wakes expecting her hand to be tangled in his hair, her pulse point resting against his ear. But no, he's alone and freezing in the Arctic, not wrapped up safe and warm in Pasadena. It's not the beat of her pulse that fills the room, but a much more raucous sound now that he's fully awake. It's the sound of…?

"Sheldon! Get up! There's a –"

But he doesn't hear Leonard's warning; he can only hear the disappointment thudding in his ears like a separate pulse. He wraps a blanket around himself and stumbles blindly through the dark, to the back door, out into the cold –

- and stops dead in the face of a polar bear.


	9. Chapter 9

_The last time, it could very well be a beginning._

Her sister arrives for an impromptu visit the next week.

"Kelly," Penny says, startled to find her standing in the hallway. "What are you doing here?"

Kelly has already engulfed her younger sister in a hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "How could you forget I'm coming?" she replies with a concerned smile, studying Penny's face. "We planned it weeks ago. Didn't you mark your calendar?"

Kelly is the brightest spark in the family. Nobody knows where her smarts, good organisation and general togetherness came from. She is a throwback, a remnant of some distant generation before their family were farmers. As she brushes her sister's hair from her face, Penny's eyes flick down and away – to her diary left open on the coffee table.

"I've…"

She hasn't been answering messages or even using her laptop the past couple of days, but this time it's not because she's miserable. She's been reminiscing; pouring over the diary until she knows the words off by heart and absently adding pictures to the pages that are still blank. It's not dwelling. It's therapy.

Fingers click in front of her face. "Hey? Are you in there?" Kelly asks, slipping inside and helping herself to a seat on the couch. Penny blinks and nods, heading for the kitchen to put coffee on without being asked.

"What's this?" Kelly holds up the book for a split second before starting to flip through the pages. Penny bustles around collecting clean mugs, not batting an eye at the invasion of privacy. They've been reading each other's diaries ever since they could write. 'Personal' is not a word that fits into the vocabulary of their relationship. She watches Kelly's face as she reads the diary, her mouth turning up in smiles and down with the pain of a frown. She looks like a future version of herself – the same confidence and startling beauty, the same sharp tongue and arching brow – but with feint bracket lines around the mouth and eyes: the parenthesis of thirty years' worth of words. She is slightly stockier and her eyes are not so tainted with the foolishness that Penny sometimes displays. She's the wizened version of Penny who reads books in her spare time instead of playing video games.

"You've never sounded so in love," Kelly remarks, glancing up from the book. "And I was thinking that long before I peeked into this."

"You don't have to tell me," Penny replies heavily, passing over a mug as she sinks down next to her sister. She holds her cup to her lips and lets her eyes sink closed. The bitter steam of the coffee warms her cheeks, like his kisses used to. "But I'm done crying about it. I'm done moping. I just need something to occupy my time until he comes back." She stretches her legs out and rests them on the table. "We'll see where we are when he comes home."

Kelly eyes her warily. "Since when did my little sister think so maturely?"

Penny nudges her arm. "Since she fell for a guy who needed a _woman_, not a girl."

"You know if you're looking for something to do…" Kelly flicks a couple of pages of the book at her. "These drawings are pretty damn good. You should take up an art class."

Penny snorts. "Get out; those are just scribbles I did when I couldn't be bothered writing."

"Maybe you should be lazy more often then. Seriously Pen, look at this one." It's a pen-sketched image of Sheldon's profile, done in moody tones and scratched over with red ink – from the times she'd been too afraid of her anger to put it into words. She shrugs a shoulder, embarrassed now. Never mind all the entries about them sleeping together or fighting; these pictures are snapshots of her feelings for Sheldon, the emotions too real and raw to be named.

"Now that's beautiful," Kelly continues.

_Yes, he is_, Penny thinks to herself.

"Why wouldn't you want to show these to people?"

Penny studies the seriousness in the drawing's eyes, for the first time realising that maybe she could go somewhere with this. The shading is a little off and the outlines aren't too perfect, but the heart is there. She plucks the diary from her sister's hands and smooths a palm over its cover.

"I'll think about it," she tells her.

***

He can't remember losing consciousness.

What he does recall is a bear claw the size of his head flying in that very direction, and since his temples are now throbbing with exquisite pain Sheldon is able to piece together what happened, though somewhat roughly. It's hard to focus when his chest aches with every breath and he feels like he's falling even though he's clearly in a hospital bed. But pinpricks of memory start to filter through. He is a genius after all, and even in a mildly dissociated state he can come to the conclusion he's been attacked by a polar bear.

_Eyes like black holes – a flash of humanity in them – lashing out because it's frightened – __**Penny**__ –_

A fit of coughing seizes him, searing through his lungs like fire.

_White looms above – falling to the ground – massive pressure – __**Penny**__ – _

The room spins as he tries not to spasm with the force of his coughs.

_Blades rake down his cheek – too much weight – _

"Penny," Sheldon gasps when he can't catch a breath, when he's suddenly afraid and in pain and miserable.

She doesn't come, but her name calms him down. The room rights itself, his head stops swimming. He holds a hand over his chest, listening to the monotonous beating of his heart. He looks to his bedside and realises Leonard is dozing in a chair in the corner.

"Leona –" Sheldon starts coughing again, and the sound finally rouses his friend.

"Hey buddy," Leonard says gently, shifting in the chair. "How are you feeling?"

Sheldon takes a steadying breath and eyes the room suspiciously. "It's sunny outside," he croaks.

"Yeah," Leonard replies. "We're home."

"Home?" he tries to sit up straight in alarm. "My research –"

"We took what we could, but you needed help."

"You had eighteen hours…" Sheldon argues through a drawn out breath, "To collect my research before help arrived."

"Believe it or not we _did_ spend most of that trying to make sure you didn't die."

He doesn't know what to be more shocked by: their worrying, the failure of his expedition or the fact it isn't Penny who's by his side.

"Howard's trying to reach Penny now," Leonard says, providing the information his friend is too proud to ask for. "She didn't answer any Skype calls when we were in the Arctic."

"Howard's not allowed access to Penny's number."

"He's using my phone."

The thought of _waiting_ for information on Penny tires him. He glances down at his bandaged chest and arm.

"I was mauled," he states. "I always said bears were terrifying."

"You weren't _mauled,_" Leonard chastises. "The bear was leaning into the door and fell when you opened it. You spooked it, that's all."

"That's all? Leonard, I –" he coughs viciously, wincing at the pain that spikes through his chest.

"You were _lucky_, Sheldon," Leonard says, adopting a softer tone. "You could have died."

The truth of this is humbling. "So what does being 'lucky' mean, in terms of a bear attack?" he asks, once again inspecting his bandages.

"Two broken ribs and some scratches. You're going to be in pain for a while, and you'll need medication but there's not a lot else they can do for you."

He thinks of the arduous and painful recovery ahead of him. "Leonard?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"Remind me to start work on accelerating cellular regeneration when I get home."

"I'll put a note on your board."

"Nobody touches my board."

"You let Penny write on it in _permanent marker_."

There's a sharp intake of breath from Sheldon that has nothing to do with his injuries.

"I'm not going to apologise just because I mentioned her name," Leonard says stonily. "One minute it's fine and the next it's not. You have to make up your mind, Sheldon. Either you want her or you don't."

They both know his mind has been made up for a long time now.

Whether or not he voices his thoughts is another matter.

"You know," Leonard continues, easing his voice to a friendlier tone, "Pretending you don't care is kind of like lying. And you're terrible at that."

Sheldon nods, not quite smiling, and closes his eyes.

"I'd better go see if Penny's at reception yet," Leonard says after a while.

"I'm still in pain," Sheldon argues, his best attempt at a plea to not be left alone.

"You know where the morphine button is; it'll put you out soon anyway."

He stands to leave but Sheldon reaches out with a wince and catches his friend's arm. The contact stops Leonard.

"I don't know what the protocol is here," the scientist admits, not for the first time.

Leonard smiles. "You still love her, right?"

Sheldon looks down and away. "Against my better judgement…yes," he murmurs.

"Then you'll be fine," he replies, and Sheldon's hand drops.

***

What is it about hospitals that make you feel so _naked_?

Just stepping into the reception bay Penny joins a world of exposure: everything is so white you can't blend in; people are in such a hurry that there's no time to be subtle about what you need. _Here I am_, your presence screams the moment you pass through those doors. _Help me. _The rooms are filled with people crying, pacing; people are whispering and begging and offering comfort to those for whom none of these actions has worked. Howard's message is short and simple: Sheldon is home, in hospital. Following this information is an accusing silence that asks _why didn't you answer our calls sooner?_ As she throws herself at the reception desk she thinks of her apartment littered with crumpled paper, scattered pencils and enough drawings to fill a gallery. She'd been so immersed in her new hobby that real life had taken a backseat. It wasn't until Howard's phone call woke her from her stupor that she'd realised the hobby had consumed her. She'd remembered waking the previous night to find her hand poised in the air as if ready to trap a wayward thought in pencil. She'd found her laptop crushed under a pad of paper and had seen the dozens of missed Skype calls lined up. The cliché of hoping she's not too late doesn't apply. The idea that she wouldn't _know_ if something was seriously wrong is just impossible.

Leonard is supposed to meet her here, but Penny sees no familiar face – only those of the desperate and the optimistic. _Which one am I? _she thinks idly, abandoning the room to take the elevator. She stabs at the button, but it does not light up. She nearly cries with nostalgia.

The damn thing is out of order.

Sheldon's room is so many floors above that it tries her patience not to just start running, but she forces herself to breathe evenly and keep a steady pace as she climbs the service stairs. It's been nearly three months since they've seen each other and she'll be damned if she's going to meet him sweaty and red-faced.

God forbid he might think she'd been in a hurry to find him.

Even though she totally _is_, and with every passing minute she's getting closer to crying with frustration.

"What kind of hospital has elevators that don't work?" she grumbles into her sleeve, pausing to rest halfway up.

Eight floors to go.

"Don't tell Sheldon the place isn't up to standard; he's not healthy enough for a transfer but he'll demand one anyway."

She jumps at the voice above her. It's one part whiny, two parts breathless and so completely comforting.

"Leonard," she follows the breath of her sigh up the stairs to embrace him. After all, it's not just Sheldon she's been missing. There hasn't been only one thing absent from her life, but four. Leonard is more than warm, flushed hot with exertion, like she's trying _not_ to be. He smells like some faraway place that she can't name. And he's _here_, his grip on her constantly changing from firm to light because he's missed her but he also knows she belongs to someone else.

"It's so good to see you," he says, his voice belying that it's more than _good._

"I would've come straight away but I didn't know!" she cries, now that the thrill of seeing him has worn down to a pleasant hum. "My laptop was…and I've been…" _Been what_? Penny thinks of the dozens of missed work shifts, of the unpaid bills and the resume that hasn't seen the inside of an acting agency for weeks. Yet she can't say she's been unfocused. The drawing has sharpened her thoughts, if anything. She remembers her sister's encouragements. "I've been indulging a new hobby."

Leonard seems wary as they finally stand apart. "It's not World of Warcraft this time, is it?"

"It's not a game, it's totally healthy," she replies, eyeing the stairs above, suddenly anxious. "Anyway –"

"Come on," Leonard takes her hand. "He's this way."

***

Strangely enough, as Penny stands outside Sheldon's room, she thinks of Mary Cooper.

His childhood soundtrack had been a mixture of blaring lectures, his parents screaming bloody murder and the words of the bible laid over him like a stifling blanket. She remembers the evening she'd learnt all this as she raises a hand to turn the handle.

"_I detest fighting," he murmurs against the shell of her ear. The tension has evaporated since their argument in line at the snack bar. "My childhood was riddled with the sounds of my mother and father threatening to disembowel or divorce each other, no matter what Jesus thought." _

_She revels in the feel of his lips brushing just below her ear. "It just feels like sometimes you're ignoring me," she replies, well aware that the movie-goers around them are giving disapproving looks. _

"_That's because I __**am**__ ignoring you," he answers, "I avoid you when you seem to be searching for something to argue over." _

"_All couples fight, Sheldon." She ignores the pointed cough from the woman next to her. _

"_I know. My parents were a prime example." He leans in close enough that she can smell popcorn and apologies. "Which is why I __**never**__ want us to go down that path." _

Did Sheldon ever get to see this part of his parent's relationship? Did he ever hear the muted sounds of amends being made, or did he only ever witness the destruction? She wonders how many times Mary Cooper promised her husband that it would all be okay, until the day he died and left so many real feelings left unsaid, so many real apologies left to be made. She won't let Sheldon down like his parents had. If this is the final break up, so be it. If this is a tentative reunion, that's even better. But it's going to _mean_ something, no matter what. She doesn't want to leave that room feeling as if nothing's happened, nothing's been defined. Without pause for anymore thought she sidles into the room.

She's forgotten how soothing it is to see him asleep.

Even though his whole chest is bandaged and his face is marred, he gives little serene sighs and flexes his fingers. _Probably holding a whiteboard marker_, she reasons, watching his hand curl into a light fist. He's still so Sheldon but he's _not._ He hasn't got a hugely overgrown beard like the others, but it's enough to make her stare. She's never seen him looking so battered and unkempt.

When she closes the door his eyes flutter open, bleary with the pain meds.

_Confusion_: Sheldon can't focus. He sees stark lights and colours in disarray, a blur of pink and yellow at the door.

_Clarity: _His eyes adjust and home in on the shapes in the room: chair, the end of the bed, Penny. Penny.

_Fear._ His chest begins to rattle with heavy breaths. They hurt, but not as much as seeing the matching look of fright on her face.

Penny clears her throat. "I've heard of 'going native' but I think wrestling with bears is just going too far," she says with a semblance of nonchalance.

He takes a breath that could fill a whale's lungs. "Bear wrestling is illegal," he replies groggily, though his eyes have become sharply focused on her. "And far below my moral standards."

She shakes her head. "Of course," she says curtly. Had she expected any better of him? A weepy apology? A heartfelt plea for forgiveness? Sheldon Cooper doesn't apologise with tears in his eyes, he rescinds strikes. He doesn't plea for forgiveness, he lifts banishments.

_Apprehension._ Is he ever going to rescind her strikes? There have been so many.

But he's done plenty wrong by her as well.

"Hello," he says in that same meek little way and _oh_, there it is, that urge to forgive him because he sounds so much like a guilt-riddled child.

Except he's not. He's hurt her. He's been gone.

But Penny has missed the spaces he fills in her life.

"Hey," she replies at last as something uncoils within her, and suddenly she remembers fighting with her sister as a child.

"_I hate you! As soon as I'm eighteen I'm moving out so I never have to talk to you again!"_

"_I hate you more!" Penny shouts, stamping her feet. "Let's start right now. Stop talking to me!" _

_They don't speak or acknowledge each other's presence for three days – an eternity when you're six and seven. Especially when you both share the same living space, the same playhouse by the barn and pony named Alice. After dinner that third day Penny yields, missing her best friend, her confidant. She crawls up onto the sofa and right into Kelly's lap, who doesn't say a word, only places her arms tight around her little sister's body. _

"_Missed you," she whispers. _

"We've been so stupid," she blurts, edging closer to his bed.

He looks surprised. "We?"

"How did we ever think we could avoid this forever? I live like ten feet away from you, Sheldon. We couldn't just ignore each other. And it's not like I was just going to cut Leonard out of my life."

"I agree that proximal distance and overlapping social circles may have hindered our attempts to feign indifference to one another." He licks his lips. The effort of speech makes his mouth dry. "What's your point?"

"That I was an idiot."

"Yes, you were. But admittedly I have not been thinking clearly for quite some time." 

She ignores that first part. "And now that you've been mauled by a bear and can't run away, I think it's time we acted like adults and dealt with this."

He's surprised by the maturity in her voice, but experience has taught him to beware of moments like this. "You're not going to yell, are you?"

She's still upset, but she's not going to shout at a guy who can barely take a breath without wincing. He seems to pick up on this fairly quickly when she starts to tremble, the nervousness breaking free from where she's been hiding it.

"I wanted you to die," she admits, "I wished for it."

He doesn't believe it for a second. "No you didn't."

"No, but I _wanted_ to want you to die. What kind of person wants someone dead over a break up?"

"Someone who has experienced a fair amount of pain."

It's easier to nod than to speak. The fact that he's justified her horrific thoughts makes her quivering frame settle.

"I was still right about some of the points I made," she says carefully, but his gaze on her does not waver with any discernible expression.

"For example?"

"Well…after a while, you forgot to make space for me. I think you took me for granted. But I know I forgot that you took a while to change, too. I forgot that I'd loved you for that."

"Loved?" he queries, licking his lips again.

"Love," she whispers, so quietly that he doesn't hear.

And then the three feet between them have become two, and one, and then just a hair's breadth as she leans over – careful of his chest – and tries to find, in his mouth, what it was that had made her love dissolve into hate. Because maybe if she can find that spark of bitterness, of _clashing_, if she can taste it and label it then maybe she can remember all the reasons why they have _so much more_ to work on still and that this is _not_ a good idea. She grabs at his hospital gown and fits her hand around the back of his head, lifting his mouth up to hers as they groan and fall apart within each other – until suddenly Sheldon's lips tear away. They're tingling and he feels light headed and they both realise it's not because of _this_, it's because he can't breathe and his chest is heaving painfully and he coughs hard.

Penny's hand covers her mouth, shocked that she could still be so utterly _stupid_.

"Are you okay?" she asks for the first time, laying a steadying hand on his shoulder while he gets his breath back.

_You're a danger to my well being, _he thinks, _in so many ways._ He nods.

"My God," Penny growls, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm so sorry. What the hell are we doing?"

"I believe this is called a 'kiss and make up' scene."

She laughs gently. "How can it be when we can't even kiss without you going blue?"

She has to look away from him then, just to get her bearings and stop drowning in him. Her eyes alight on her handbag, on the diary inside.

_No time like the present._

There's nothing more she can say right now, so she reaches into her bag and holds her diary out as if the memories are dragging its weight down. She takes his hand just long enough to feel the cold in them and presses the warmth of the book into his grip.

"What's this?"

"A reminder of the way we used to be. Because I haven't forgotten, as hard as that is to believe."

"It's not hard," Sheldon replies, scratching his beard as he flips through the pages. _This supplies extensive proof of that. _

She makes some strong points in the later pages, but he doesn't dwell on those. He's focused on the drawings of himself. They are roughly detailed and the toning isn't perfect, but somehow these inaccuracies just don't seem as important as the stirring sensation they create inside him.

"These are fascinating," he says quietly, and she grins because it's not often he openly compliments her. He closes the book and holds it tightly in his hand, eyes flicking to his own gift on the bedside table.

"So was it worth it?" she asks ambiguously, before he can get a chance to mention it.

"Was what worth it?"

"Leaving. Did you get anything from it?"

She can tell when he's thinking of science, and when he's thinking of her, but this look seems to be a mix of the two. And she can't pick what his answer is going to be.

"I'm not going to be famous," he says at last. "We did not complete our research before –" he sees a flash of blood, white fur and shivers. "The expedition was a failure. Perhaps, if I hadn't been so distracted…"

"What could possibly distract Sheldon Cooper from his work?"

He picks up his gift from the table and sighs, a world weary sound that gives the impression this book has consumed him and it's an effort to give it up. She takes it hesitantly.

"Open it," he instructs softly.

Without glancing at the cover she flips it open and inspects the first page.

_You constructed one thousand Penny Blossoms in a single night._

It's written in his unmistakable scientist scrawl. Around the edge of the page are dried flowers.

Blossoms.

Penny looks up from the page at him, but Sheldon's expression says nothing but _keep looking_.

The next page contains the picture of her and Sheldon, red faced and ruffled, coming out of her bedroom.

"I thought you made Howard delete that," she says quietly.

"He sent it to a folder disguised as a recycle bin."

"Of course."

Beneath it in quotation marks are words:

"_Upon collecting our take out, you ensure that Wolowitz' meal is devoid of peanut products before leaving the restaurant." _

"_Just because I had to punch him in the face once doesn't mean I want him to die of anaphylactic shock."_

Following this is a page filled with words: _Anaphylactic, Farman-Farmaian, Schrödinger's Cat…_a list of words she knows off by heart, mostly because they'd come from him. She starts to flip through at random; there are pictures of her and Sheldon from their one and only attempt to conquer the beach and comments about her uncanny ability to construct sandcastles; pencilled sketches of her below the explanation: _Two months, four days, seventy three hours and twelve minutes until I return home. This is what I spent the afternoon working on, rather than the monopoles. _

There is one page filled with a list that has no title. Some entries are dull with age, others with their ink still bright:

_Subject prefers mouth to fingers. _

_Subject has a high tolerance for light-touch teasing – prefers firm pressure. _

_Subject shows a negative response to tongue on the naval area. _

_Whispering into this area is fine._

_She particularly enjoys when I whisper scientific theories into the collarbone and ear. _

_She is comforted by my pointing out her attributes. _

_She says she wishes I wouldn't talk so much, yet smiles whenever I do. _

_This contradiction suggests secret affection. _

_She smiled for the first time during coitus tonight. Theory: romantic attraction to me. _

_Penny's body hair stands on end when I brush my fingers over her arm._

_Penny is ticklish around her feet. Unlike her sensitive abdomen, this is __**not**__ enjoyable to tease her about. Keep head a good distance from feet in the event of tickling._

_When planning to initiate sex, serving watermelon helps. Penny enjoys licking the juice off skin. _

_Despite provocation on my part, Penny does not frequently say she loves me. She is of the opinion that the less something is said, the more it means. _

It seems he hasn't stopped cataloguing her reactions since the night he first proposed that experiment.

With a hand that's slightly shaking, she turns to the last page.

There are more blossoms surrounding a photo of her kissing him. It's hardly the most romantic picture in the world: his mother had taken it last Thanksgiving, wanting proof of Sheldon's first girlfriend. He hadn't wanted any photos but Penny, woozy with affection rather than alcohol, proceeded to smother his cheek with kisses interrupted by peals of giggling. In an effort to prevent his escape she'd wrapped her arms firm around his shoulders but she's needn't have worried. His face had said he hated it but his eyes said he never wanted her to stop.

And the words: _Although there are many factors to the contrary, __**these**__ are the aspects that make me want and love you. _

It's the Book of Penny.

"Sheldon…this –" she can't talk. There is the smallest smile upturned on his mouth, a glint in his eyes. She's struck with a feeling she hasn't felt in a long, long time – like a rock has loosened inside her and the avalanche is about to come roaring down. Is it possible to fall in love with the same man all over again?

"This isn't a 'forgive and forget' moment," she says at last, setting the book down at his feet.

He's silent. He knows there's more to come.

"We have issues. I'm a hothead and you're kind of a nutcase."

"I'm aware of our clashing personalities, but you might agree that the benefits of our union often outweigh the costs?"

"That's not what you said before. You told me you'd rather be successful."

"Doesn't my diary disprove that abhorrent thought?"

She feels so very small, tiny but filled with light. "Yes."

"So then how do you…" Sheldon coughs. "How do you feel now?"

She lets out a shaky breath. "Scared. I want this to work. But I know what we're like. I know we're going to fight again."

"We've never been completely compatible," he replies, "That's what made it interesting," he utters barely audibly, looking down at the diary in his hands. "So what do you propose we do?"

Penny wipes the corner of her eye. "I think…" she climbs onto the bed and curls into him lightly like a vine, an olive branch, a promise. It has been so very long since they've simply allowed themselves to _exist_ side by side in the same space. Not arguing or even speaking, just _being. _They can feel the pull of a thousand memories inside telling them _yes_, this is how it should be.

"I think…" Her fingers, womanly and moisturised, link with his, well kempt and yet still those of a man. He inspects their joining and it strikes him not for the first time that there's more to this union than flesh and bone. There's a flame. She looks at him with a face that says she feels it too, and gives an answer that's nothing more than a loving jest.

"I think maybe we should sleep on it."

_The End. _


End file.
